Konstantyn Chronicles: Not All Gold Glitters
by Mortuis1
Summary: AU - New Hogwarts faculty member Herr Professor Doctor Pavel Konstantyn promises to bring a new approach to the History of Magic. He joins forces to fight Voldemort, but secrecy about his own life and past makes people wonder. Some of his magic seems... disturbing. A/N: Every effort is made for characters to be canon-compliant, but some elements' timing may be shifted to serve plot
1. Whispers, and Rumors, and Gold, Oh My!

**Whispers, and Rumors, and Gold, Oh My!**

Ivan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose trying to ward off either fatigue, frustration, or both. He had no idea why pinching his nose would help... he just knew it was an habitual gesture of his. The reports he was getting were so tenuous, so flimsy. He leaned back in his creaky wooden chair, almost pulled the little chain on his desk lamp to plunge his office into nearly total darkness, and thought about sleeping right there in his office.

 _"No, this would not do," he thought to himself. "I need some proper rest, then a shower and some fresh clothes."_ When had he last changed his clothes, he wondered? Or slept in a bed, for that matter? He laughed to himself mirthlessly as he walked to his office window and stared out at the gray stone walls of the Radu Voda Monastery, so imposing and sepulchral in the ghostly light of this nearly full moon. _"Bucharest by Moonlight," he mused. "That should sound lovely, like a song, and fill the heart with romance."_ For him, it only filled the heart with dread.

Opening the window just far enough, Ivan transformed into a hefty raven and launched joyfully from the sill into the still, cold, night air. He flew in ascending spirals, gaining ever more altitude until he flew high above the tallest structure in what was still called "Old Town" here in Bucharest. How strange was it for Old Town now to contain a Starbucks and the "All-In Casino and Poker Club"? Ah, well. _"Tempora mutantur"_ as his father used to say. But then, didn't everything?

Now, for at least a few minutes traveling home, he could truly relax. He only felt completely relaxed doing two things: bathing in a hot tub of soapy water as a man, and flying or gliding on swiftly moving currents of cool air as a raven. These days there seemed depressingly little time for either one. And before he knew it, he was landing on his apartment balcony. Transforming smoothly as he entered, he shed his clothing between the balcony sliding glass door and his bed, leaving a laundry trail his house elf would eventually deal with. Sliding gratefully between the sheets, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Buzz... Buzz... Buzz...

Buzz... Buzz... Buzz...

Buzz... Buzz... Buzz...

Conversation with self:

 _"My phone is buzzing..."_  
 _"Yes, yes it is..."_

Buzz... Buzz... Buzz...

 _"It keeps doing that. I want it to shut up and leave me alone..."_  
 _"It won't. You must answer it._ "

Buzz... Buzz... Buzz...

 _"I don't want to answer it. I want it to shut up and leave me alone..."_  
 _"True. You want that. Irrelevant, but true. Now ANSWER THE PHONE. It's probably important..."_

Buzz... Buzz... Buzz...

Groan... reach... push the stupid button... slide the stupid icon...

"Hello..."

"Hello... Ivan?"

"Da, what is it?"

"Get in here right away. We've found Aleksandur Bogdanov. I'm sorry... He's dead, Ivan. But we have the information. Come in right now. We have the proof and we need to get moving on this..." and the line went dead before he could answer.

Instantly alert as he heard Aleksandur's name, still it took a moment as he sat at the edge of his bed with his feet on the floor, to get oriented and sort out his thoughts. Aleks had been his best friend since boyhood, and his death struck him like losing a limb. All right, there would be time to grieve later. Looking around he breathed a small prayer of thanks for Misha, his house elf. Sure enough, there was a clean set of clothes laid out for him, all his mess from the night before was picked up and by now probably cleaned and pressed, even his phone had been placed on his nightstand... having been dribbled somewhere between the door and the bed just a few hours earlier.

He may not have time for a bath, but even rushed as he was he could take 60 seconds for a shower, then wand-dry himself off and wand his clothing onto himself. He looked handsome enough with scruff to bypass shaving for the time being, and it wasn't like he had to worry about keeping up appearances for his civil service job. One last look in the mirror, a quick check for undetectable weapons, a final dose of Pepperup tonic to compensate for four whole hours of sleep in the past thirty-six, and off he apparated to his office.

He got there just in time for his two best surviving operatives to walk him to the briefing room where their Division Chief awaited them. He rose as they entered and offered his hand.

Ivailo Chernev, Division Chief of the Auror and Intelligence Apparat, Protectorate of Magic, Romania, shook hands, then kissed Ivan on both cheeks as he offered his sincere condolences. "I'm so sorry this has come about, Ivan. But it seems you were right all along." Chernev, a tall gaunt man of somber bearing, folded his form into a chair at the table with an air of command. "Offhand, I found it hard to believe, but you can see for yourself, the penseive is right there..."

Ivan looked to his left at the swirling light glowing from the fluid surface. _"Good old, Aleksandur," he thought. "Not only got the information through who knows what means, but managed to preserve it and get the memory vials back to us somehow..."_

He took the time to submerge into the memories of his dead friend, and saw the fulfillment of his worst fears unfold before him.

Stoian Petrov, Bulgarian, leader of an assassination coven so long gone they were thought dead. Very possibly the most dangerous wizard alive, though there were those who sought to dispute that these days. Ivan tried to convince himself that he'd truly thought Petrov dead! "Tried" was the operative word there. "Hoped" was honestly more accurate. This man, this wizard, this... this monster... had once been the heart of Bulgaria's prime industry for export. Whether magical or muggle, the Bulgarians were the very best assassins. With the fall of the Iron Curtain, and the collapse of the KGB and its apparatchik, Bulgaria's prime client market had crashed.

 _"No good deed goes unpunished, and no good thing can last," they say._

Slowly, over time, the power vacuum left by the collapse of the Party and the Police State, had become filled by the same people with the same motives, now wearing entrepreneurial masks and free market business suits. Like rats scurrying from a condemned building into a city's pervasive sewer system, what had been an identifiable monolith of evil was now split into countless shadowy alleys.

Here now was the proof...

A contract. An open contract making its way through the Dark Net and every magical back alley, sewer, and dark coven in Europe. One million gold galleons, paid to any account anonymously or not. Wanted: Dead or Alive... Harry Potter, a mere boy, a student at the magical training academy in England. And Stoian Petrov and his entire organization, have now made it formally known, they plan to fulfill that contract. What's more, they were now offering their own rewards for ideas and information leading to its successful completion.

Ivan suddenly felt both very old and very young at the same time. He sank into the chair left open for him among his colleagues, and waited on the older man to speak.

"Are we agreed then?" Chernev asked gently. "You know he must be called. He's the only one who has ever beaten Petrov. They hate each other, and I know he's thought Petrov dead. You're good, Ivan. You are absolutely the best we have, and I have no doubts of your skill or capabilities, but..."

"No, my friend. No offense taken. I know you are right. I'm good, very good indeed... but he is doubtless better. Whenever I spend time with him he amazes me, and I learn more about... well... anything. I just hate... I don't want to see... This is just so very dangerous. We've already lost Aleksandur. I don't know if I could..."

"I know, Ivan. But do we really have any choice? Whether he's called or not, you know Petrov will go after him first. Clearly he must be told, if only for his own safety. And you know as well as I, once he is told..."

"Yes, I know..." Ivan laughed, almost bitterly. "Once he is told, nothing on earth will stop him. He has connections, old connections, with magic in England. I was even raised there for part of my life. No, dear Ivailo... Sir... Well, he's _retired_ , sir."

"Ivan," the old man laughed, "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. He is as retired as you or I are. He just gets around quite a bit more..." and Ivan looked defeated as he smiled at the irony. "Right, so the only question is, my boy, shall I call him? Or..."

"Oh, no, sir. I will definitely call him. In fact, I think we'll have dinner. It's been a while. I should tell him about Aleksandur anyway. He was like a son to him. In fact, hang on a moment. Let me call him from here on speaker, we can all say hello..." four wands wave at his phone to secure the call, as Ivan places it between them all and hits a speed dial number.

They hear ringing through the speaker...

A 'click'... then, "Ivan, my dear boy! How good to hear from you," came the sonorous baritone of Herr Doctor Professor Pavel Konstantyn.

"Hello, yourself, and I've some friends here to say hi to you as well. Listen, are you free for dinner, or... even better... say lunch today?"

"Certainly. I'd be delighted..." as his voice took on a bit of an edge. "I take it we all have matters to discuss."

"Yes, yes we do. I'll let you all chat for a bit, and I'll see you shortly for lunch."

"Very well, Ivan. I'll look forward to it."

"Me, too, Dad. I'll be there soon."

"Good."

And Ivan left the room, as his eyes misted just a bit.

* * *

 **Two Weeks Later:**

The Dining Hall was filled with lights, children, and food as Harry's second year began and the Sorting Hat called out house after house. While all tried to put a brave face on it, some first years were relieved and others intimidated as they scattered to their house tables to meet the cohort they'd spend the next seven years with.

Harry, of course, missed the festivities, having been "rescued" from Privet Drive by the Weasley's and their flying Ford Anglia the first time, and then finally parking it with Ron in the Womping Willow after Dobby locked them out of the Hogwart's Special Train. So, while Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris triumphantly marched the boys off to what the despicable custodian secretly hoped would be their execution - or at least expulsion - the boys missed Headmaster Dumbledore's introduction of their new History of Magic professor, Herr Professor Doctor Pavel Konstantyn.

"Yes, we're delighted to report that Professor Binns has accepted a commission to research some lesser known areas of magical history, more easily accessed from the afterlife, while Professor Konstantyn takes his place as lecturer here at Hogwarts. Let us show him a warm welcome," as the Headmaster backed away from the lectern a pace or two and led a brief polite round of applause. Herr Professor rose, made a slight martial bow as he smiled, and seated himself again without comment.

The first day of classes went by in typical fashion. Madame Sprout's botany class repotted mandrakes. Professor Gilderoy Lockhart created sheer havoc releasing a cage of Cornish Pixies who hung Neville from a chandelier. Ron received his howler from Molly Weasley in front of the entire school in the Dining Hall. Ron cursed himself with slugs as his wand rebounded his hex after Draco's filthy utterance at Hermione. And detention was served helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail. Yes, nothing seemingly unusual for Harry Potter and Friends at Hogwarts.

The next day, as Slytherins and Gryffindors teamed up for Divination, Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms, there was a bit of buzz as all approached their last class of the day with their new... reportedly "odd", according to not a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs... professor.

They were not the least bit disappointed.

 _ **A/N Thank you** for coming this far, Gentle Reader. I love the Potterverse and, having taught for a number of years myself, have always thought how marvelous it would be to be faculty at Hogwarts. This is AU, and will depart in a number of places from canon, but for the most part it will be the insertion of a character based on a real person I was very privileged to learn under. He passed away long ago, but I suspect were he able to teach at Hogwarts with the resources of magic at his disposal, things would develop much this way. Check this story out... it is a first effort for me... and let me know, even in a super brief review, how you like (or don't like) how the story evolves. Grace to you - Mort! :)_


	2. Day One

_A/N Wow. I wasn't planning to post this until later on, but in the first two hours since posting the introduction, I have two follows. So... swallows hard... I'll go ahead and put this up. I hope you enjoy. Everyone will pretty much stay in character, but we may see some interesting evolution of relationships as we go along. The Professor is based on a wonderful teacher I had, and have often thought how well he would do at Hogwarts. Feel free to R/R and offer ideas. I own none of JR's characters, but they've blessed me immensely. Grace to you!_

 **Day One**

Students filed into their History of Magic classroom to find the furniture moved in a unique arrangement. All the desks now formed a ring around the outer walls of the class, leaving an empty square center area of about 15 feet on a side.

After a hesitant moment to take it all in, children split off left and right to find their seats. A center aisle was kept open between the classroom door and the front of the room, but there was no longer that clear orientation between "students" and "blackboard" space that they were used to. The room felt more like a theater, with a "stage" and "seats".

The lighting had been changed as well. The walls glowed with sconces providing more than sufficient lighting to read or write, and yet the center of the room seemed much brighter and drew the eye to that space without conscious thought.

Everyone took seats, and needless to say, the Gryffindors took one side of the aisle, while the Slytherins took the other. The Professor entered from his office, closed that door, turned and waved his wand to close the hallway door as he cast a silencing charm on it as well. Only a few students noticed this last spell, Harry and Hermione among them, and it raised more than one eyebrow.

Dr. Konstantyn was of medium height and build, with brown hair a bit bushy reminding Hermione of photos of the young Albert Einstein. His dark brown eyes seemed to see deeply, though briefly, into the eyes of each student as slowly he sized them up without frightening them. Silently and deliberately he came down the steps and strode into the center of the room, beginning to speak.

"Vonce upon a time..." he began, his baritone voice heavily laced with his Eastern European accent, "a young man travelled mit his family from a Russia tormented by a demagogue, and settled first in Austria, and then England.

"I vos dat young man, and ven just a few years older than you are now, I led my mother and younger brothers in escape from Stalin during World War II. All people haff a story. All people haff a history. Und all histories truly begin mit 'vonce upon a time'.

"Zo... now you know a great deal about me. Ve will study the History of Magic here together. But you must alvays remember that history is NOT just a series of names, und places, und dates..." And as he spoke, his wand waved alongside him, punctuating his words, forming fireletters in the air over his head of historically significant names, places, and dates.

"No!" he barked, as a quick flick of his wand made all the writing explode like some of George and Fred's indoor fireworks.

"History is a story. A 'vonce upon a time' story. It is made of people with feelings und fears und ambitions und crimes. As they move through times in places with problems or storms, or enemies, or hardships. History is often a story of evil people seeking power ofer others veaker dan dey. Other times, it is a story of fearful people doing well or badly in situations perhaps not of their own making.

"Dere is an old saying, 'history is written by the victors'. Dat is in part true. Much of vot is recorded, is written from der point of view of the powers off der time. But dere is also an element off interpretation. Ve can correct some biases of recording by research. Vot types of historical research can you think off that could correct errors... take World War II for example?"

Hermione Granger's hand shot up immediately as expected. Aside from a couple of rolling eyes from other students, most were hesitant, exchanging quizzical looks, unsure of whether to risk volunteering answers with this strange man. For one thing, the fact that students were looking directly at one anothers' faces rather than the backs of heads, took some getting used to.

"I vill of course permit Miss Granger to answer, but allow me to point out, ven I ask a question und you answer reasonably, you will haf the opportunity to make your 'house points', as well as hear somevon else talk besides me. Zo, again... how can history be researched?"

This time, three or four additional hands went up. "Goot," he said, nodding as he walked towards Hermione's desk. "Ms. Granger, I vill ask you to respond last, und if you can provide a valid answer that vos NOT mentioned by anyvon before you, I vill consider you to have surmounted a challenge. Is dat agreeable to you? If not, you may speak first with a single means of research."

Hermione put her hand down, smiled, and said, "I'm always up for a challenge, Professor."

"So, I haff heard," he responded, as a slight smile played across his clean shaven face. "Very vell, den... Mr. Finnegan?"

"You can interview people still living from the time," Seamus offered.

"Vell done, Mr. Finnegan. But I vill ask that you stand when you answer. Alzo, you may address me as 'Professor' or 'Sir'. That is vell done, and ve are yet getting acquainted, zo... von point to Gryffindor."

The Professor's head turned slightly as he motioned for silence, successfully listening for the slight chime that sounded when a new house point was acknowledged by the gem jar that tracked such things. "Ah, very goot. I vos concerned whether your house point counter vould understand me, viss my accent. Off course, I maintain that I haff no accent, but you all do... Nonetheless, moofink on..."

And so went options of finding photographs or films of the time, finding correspondence or diaries, analyzing propaganda. As students realized that each acceptable response earned a house point, many more contributions were offered. Most were deemed reasonable and acceptable and earned a house point, both Gryffindor and Slytherin.

When all possibilities seemed exhausted, the Professor turned to Hermione saying, "your class has done vell. Now, haf you thought of another option for gathering information? Overall, I vould say your class has pretty vell covered the topic."

"Well, Professor," and she interrupted herself, having forgotten to stand, but responding to his subtle wand gesture and upraised eyebrow. "Sorry, sir..."

"No problem, Ms. Granger. Carry on, please..."

"Well, sir, I would think it would be interesting to try to locate and interview ghosts who may have witnessed events or lived through things. Skrying may also yield some information. And I even wonder if..." and she stopped, unsure whether to voice her idea...

"Go on, Ms. Granger, go on," he encouraged, nodding.

"Well, is it possible to capture memories from a ghost for preservation for pensieve? I've never seen anything on that. And the ephemeral nature of a drawn out memory seems much like the ectoplasmic form of a ghost in the first place. I just didn't want to sound... well... silly. It may be a dumb idea," and quickly she sat back down, looking a bit abashed.

"Ah! NO! It is a Vonderful idea, Ms. Granger! Class, vot do you think? Could this be done? Has it ever been done? Do you think it vould vork, or no? If so why? If not, why not? Und... how vould ve test that?

"Ve vill end der class on this for today. Anyvon who wants to do so, consider this qvestion and turn in 12 inches on dis in the next class. It is extra credit, not homevork, so decide for yourselves. Ms. Granger, for YOU this is an assignment. Go find out all you can about ghostly memory extraction and preservation, write it up, and turn it in next veek. I vant to gif you more time in the library to check this out.

"For now, den... class dismissed!" And the hallway door was unsealed and opened with a casual wave of his wand as he retired into his office.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione gathered up their materials as Ron shook his head.

"Well, THAT was different, eh?"

"I guess," Harry said. "I can't believe he's letting us go early."

"Early?" Ron snorted. "Check yer chrono, mate. This is right on time. We can just get our stuff put away before dinner."

"Wow, really?" he looked incredulous. "That's weird. History of Magic always seemed to drag on forever, and this class seemed like we barely got started."

"Well," Hermione giggled, "the fact that this teacher is actually alive may have something to do with that."

"Yeah, there's that. But then again, we've lost a great prep/study hall to do all our other homework in now," Ron lamented.

"Maybe so," Harry nodded, "but still, I think Herr Professor may have something valuable to offer. Let's just wait and see, eh?"

And all three nodded as they headed for the Gryffindor Common Room.

* * *

 _ **A/N Thank you** for getting to here, Gentle Reader. Well, it's true that Ron has lost a great "study hall with credit", but I once had a professor - he taught math - that I believe was deceased and had been mummified years before. He stood invariably at the chalkboard - yes, Gentle Reader, I am that old... real chalk, real slate - leaning against it with one shoulder, writing on it - way too small - with the other hand, and mumbling into it with an atrocious accent. It was impossible to decipher anything at all he said. I suspect Professor Binns may have been related to him. I derive great encouragement from even the shortest reviews. Whatcha think? Grace to you - Mort_


	3. High Tea

**High Tea**

At the end of classes that Friday, Headmaster Dumbledore held one of the few "formal" meetings he ever called during the academic year: The Faculty Tea. The Senior Common Room was decorously draped with each house banner on its own wall, and a sumptuous spread was laid with a variety of teas, finger sandwiches, pastries, and of course candies of every variety that appealed to his notorious sweet tooth.

Professors Lockhart and Konstantyn were "guests of honor" so to speak, as newcomers met and got acquainted and old friends renewed relationships. Lockhart, it seemed, knew few of his colleagues except by reputation, and amused himself primarily by pontificating upon his countless adventures, unswerving courage, and encouraging marketing statistics.

Herr Professor, on the other hand, was quite happy to yield the spotlight, sit off to the side in a very comfortable couch surrounded by some overstuffed leather chairs near the roaring fireplace that danced with cheery flames on what had become a rather dank and drizzly day.

Minerva McGonagall walked over handing him one of the two plates of sandwiches and cakes she levitated on one hand, while she carried her own tea in the other.

"Here, Paul. I noticed you didn't serve yourself as Gilderoy sort of crowded you from the table," she smiled down at him, as he stood to accept the snacks and bowed ever so slightly at her arrival.

"Minerva," he smiled. "Thank you so much as ever for your thoughtfulness. Ah, I see you remember my favorites... the salmon, caviar, and cheeses with just a little fruit. How kind. It is such a treat to be here teaching with you! You are as lovely as ever." They both sat, clearly chatting away as old friends.

"I'm so pleased you accepted the invitation to come here and teach," Professor McGonagall. "I was rather surprised, to be honest. I thought you were far too busy with your... ahem... other interests simply to teach history here for our young witches and wizards," surreptitiously looking around to be sure they were not overheard, as she began to nibble her own sandwiches.

"Ah, Minerva, my dear. You forget... My first and greatest passion is actually teaching. In fact, this is what I have really been doing, though my venues may be a bit varied, for decades now. Even my work with the War Colleges, both muggle and magical, have been primarily teaching. Teaching history, in fact," he chuckled, "even if most of that history has been more recent than not. And before that, I taught at Durmstrang for my first ten years. I find Hogwarts a very pleasant change of pace from that!"

"I should certainly think so!" McGonagall harrumphed with a laugh. "Though I must say, you've created quite a stir. Even in my own classes, students seem a bit more alert, are FAR more likely to call me 'Professor' or 'Ma'am', and I see them twitch when they begin to answer a question, clearly having the impulse to stand. I gather that is your doing, no?" as smile lines appeared around her eyes. "By the way, I notice that your accent seems to be... erm... moderating a bit today."

At this point, Madames Pomfrey and Sprout had managed to break free from the Lockhart contingent, and came to occupy seats surrounding Professors McGonagall and Konstantyn.

"Ah, Professor Konstantyn, I know you've already formally met, but allow me to introduce Madame Pomfrey and Madame Sprout as my very good friends as well as colleagues here," and Minerva smiled as Pavel rose to shake hands and give the briefest of bows at the introductions.

"It is a privilege to know you, ladies. And any good friends of Minerva McGonagall is welcome to become my good friend as well. Please feel free to call me Pavel, or Paul, if you prefer," and he gave them smiles that may not have earned him any award from _"Witch Weekly"_ , but seemed far warmer and sincere than others'.

"Thank you, Paul," began Professor Sprout, dressed in a set of lovely floral robes most appropriate to a formal tea. "Please call me Pomona. I know Minerva has quite looked forward to your coming, and speaks very highly of you," she chuckled slyly, giving Minerva a mischievous sidelong look.

"Tosh! Go on with ye," Minerva interjected, focusing rather intently on a lovely chocolate-iced profiterole.

"Indeed, Pomona!" Madame Pomfrey verbally leapt to the rescue. "Pavel, I am so pleased to meet you. You've created quite a buzz among the youngsters this year, and most of it mysteriously positive from what I've heard so far. Tell us," she continued as she and Pomona seated themselves comfortably, "how do you and Minerva know one another?"

Pavel's eyes looked off into the distance for a moment as softly he said, "Minerva knew my late wife as a youngster. In fact, she introduced us. We were close friends back then. Life and history parted our ways for a time, and now here we are again." Seeing their concerned looks as they wondered if they had opened a painful memory, he quickly added, "My wife passed over 10 years ago now. We had a wonderful life, raised a terrific son, Ivan - though please don't tell him I said that, if you meet him - and all my memories of her are happy ones. She, too, was quite talented in both transfiguration and as an animagus."

 _"So that's how he wants to play it," McGonagall thought to herself as she nodded acknowledgement in his direction. "Very well, so be it. Nothing about our ministry connections... shouldn't be too hard. Dumbledore is already aware."_ What she said out loud was, "I understand you're quite a hand at transfiguration yourself, Paul. You've already got my students asking how you animate your dioramas! I suspect some of them, particularly the Weasley twins, consider the pranking possibilities irresistable," as she shook her head in mock disapproval.

"Ah, my dear," he laughed. "I trust you will keep my secrets safe!"

"Oh, I shall, Paul. I assure you, all your secrets are safe with me," she replied, as her eyes narrowed just the slightest bit.

Paul nodded, as he raised his teacup saluting in acknowledgement... of all she said, and more importantly, all she did NOT say.

Moments passed in companionable silence, until Poppy turned to him with a quizzical look, asking, "now what is this I'm hearing about 'Challenges', anyway?"

Pavel chuckled. "Ah that?"

"Yes, that..." Minerva continued. "I've heard undercurrents as well. Are we going to have to start breaking up duels on the quad, or fistfights in the dormitories?"

"Not on my account we won't. At least not more than per usual, I should think. If anything, those may be reduced, if the past is anything to go by. Let me explain about my 'challenges'..." and, laughing along the way, they launched into an animated discussion that lasted right up to suppertime.

 _ **A/N Thank you** for getting here, Gentle Reader. I've always thought it was such a missed opportunity not to have scenes from the Senior Common Room in Potter stories. Like American "Teacher's Lounges" there are great dialogue possibilities when staff simply sit together for a little peace and quiet. Please review, and if you have ideas or questions feel free to share them. Grace to you - Mort_


	4. Ground Rules

**Ground Rules**

The next class began quite differently than did the first. For one thing, posted outside the door were scrolls with each class period and a list of grades. No names, a blank column where names should be, followed by one headed "Daily Grade" with either a plus sign (+), or a zero (0); and the last column headed "Term Grade". At the moment, each line with a plus listed, showed a Term Grade of "Outstanding", with all others reading "Unacceptable". It created a considerable stir, and traffic jam, outside the door as everyone crowded about and discussions arose. The odd thing, was that each student saw ONLY his or her own name on some line in the left column, and to their eyes that single line glowed brightly. All the rest of the page could be read, all the figures clear... just not the names. Only one's own name could be read with its glowing line.

As time passed for the class to begin, and students yet congregated outside the door, Professor Konstantyn again left his inner office closing the door into an empty classroom, walked down the steps to the "lecture pit". The few students who happened to be glancing into the room at the time, were shocked to see the Professor wave his wand as the classroom door slammed shut and latched right in front of them.

"Uh ohh," someone said. "That can't be good."

Murmurs of assent rippled through the group, as nothing further happened. Finally, Hermione got up the courage to try the door... locked.

"Crap," came a voice from somewhere behind her.

"What do we do now?" Goyle piped up.

"Well, it's the last class of the day, and we're locked out," said Millicent Bulstrode. "I suppose we could just leave back to our dorms and wait for dinner," she offered, a bit hopefully.

"I dunno," Ron ventured. "I get the feeling that wouldn't be a good idea. Besides, what would we tell Snape or McGonagall if they see us and ask about it?"

"We could just tell them the door was locked and we couldn't get in," Malfoy piped up, in his best indignant tones. "It would be HIS fault, not OURS."

Harry stepped up to the door, sliding past Hermione, and said, "well, you can all do as you like, but I think we're supposed to be here, so..." and raising his fist, knocked on the door with three clear raps.

 _Knock, knock, knock..._

And they waited. And waited. And tension mounted...

Again, Harry knocked, a bit louder this time...

 _Knock... Knock... Knock..._

This time, the door seemed to rattle a bit. But still the latch was locked. Harry nodded now, more sure of himself, as he drew back and pounded...

 ** _THUD... THUD... THUD..._**

The sounds seemed answered by a resounding crack, as of a sledge hammer hitting stone, and the door unlatched and swung open wide. The Professor stood stock still in the center of the classroom, holding with both hands a staff that looked like those used at Durmstrang. His face held a dark expression that boded nothing good as students walked to their desks in utter silence. Professor Konstantyn continued to stare at them with disapproval.

Not quite certain what to do, a few students started to sit down, only to see the Professor swivel his disapproving stare directly at them, and see him pound his metal shod staff on the stone floor with that resounding crack that had clearly opened the door. All took the cue, and stood quietly behind their seats waiting for the Professor to speak.

He let the tension build for a moment before beginning...

"Very well. I said last time, we are yet getting acquainted, but it seems prudent that we review a few things before we go further.

"First, let me remind you that this class begins at the top of the hour. You are to be in this room, in your seats, when I exit my office door and begin class at the top of the hour. When I begin class, I close and lock the door. If you are not in your seat and prepared to begin class when I reach this floor..." as he gently tapped with his staff... "then you are late. And I have very little patience for tardiness. Should you arrive after I have closed the door, you will find it locked. If you are wise, you will knock and seek to be admitted. If I admit you, you will be considered tardy unless and until you offer an appropriate and authorized excuse. If you do not appear, or I fail to admit you, you will be considered absent from class, and your Head of House will be notified. Is all this quite clear?"

A smattering of "yes, sir"s and "yes, professor"s were mumbled in low voices, accompanied by nearly universal head nods.

This brought another light tap of the staff. "No, no, no. The appropriate response to my question is a clear, 'Yes, sir.' Now, is all this quite clear?"

"Yes, sir!" the class responded in relieved unison. Well, almost unison, anyway.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Longbottom... I do not believe I heard your responses. Now, do you understand my policy on punctuality and class attendance?"

"Yes, sir," they all answered, as Weasley and Longbottom sounded mostly startled, and Malfoy and Crabbe resentful.

"Very well. Everyone except you four, please take your seats. You four gentlemen please remain standing, but you may put your materials down."

"Now, class, a couple more matters of protocol and policies before we move on.

"There are no unaskable questions. There are no 'stupid questions' or 'dumb ideas', as long as the idea or question is sincerely one you want to explore. There will be no ridicule permitted of one another, no disrespect, no name-calling, and no belittling in this room. A word of advice, by the way, I have outstanding hearing and find rudeness just as objectionable in the hallways or Dining Hall as here. I address misbehavior when I encounter it, and that is an encounter you would probably prefer to avoid.

"Is that clearly understood?"

This time, "Yes, sir," was clearly articulated from all.

"Better, thank you," and the Professor smiled for the first time in the period.

"Next, on the matter of respect... I address all students as Mr. or Ms. and in this room you will do the same. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," rang through the room.

"See? This gets easier as we go along. Very good. Mr. Malfoy, you seem to be squirming as if uncomfortable. Is standing here quietly beginning to tax your strength?"

Malfoy snapped rigid as he answered, "No, sir. Not at all."

"Ah, well then, perhaps I am simply boring you. Well, only one more matter and we will get on. I'm sure you'll not be bored with today's class. None of you will, and it's very kind of you four gentlemen to volunteer to help me, as you have."

Ron had a bit of a sinking feeling, and Neville wanted to find a hole to crawl into, as they stood exchanging nervous looks.

"Now, then," the Professor went on, "the Grade Reports outside this classroom seem to have carried your attention away as you arrived. Let me explain. I feel you have a right to know, day by day, exactly how you are doing in this class, and how others as a whole, are doing. Therefore, you are graded every day. That grade, along with assignments, essays, and examinations, will all take part in your Term Grade. I want you to know how you are doing, and how your class and even other classes are doing, but I will not compromise your privacy. So, you can identify only your own grades. The lines will change day by day, so don't think you can identify others by watching where they look. Are there any questions on this point?"

"No, sir," the class answered in perfect unison.

"Well done!" the Professor cheered, thumping his staff with a touch of enthusiasm.

"Excellent, now, will you four volunteers," looking at his standing foursome with a bit of a smile, "please pick up any papers being turned in on the extra credit assignment for today, place them on my desk up there," indicating the top of the steps, "and return here to the center of the room, one in each corner of this square."

While papers - pitifully few - were collected and transported, the Professor saw one Gryffindor hand go up.

"Yes, Ms. Brown," the Professor recognized Lavender Brown, and Hermione wondered how he had memorized all these names and faces in just the first few days.

"Professor, I mean no disrespect, but you said there are no unaskable questions..."

"Yesss, Ms. Brown?" he responded, tilting his head with a smile, perhaps intuiting her question.

"Well, sir, it's just that your accent is much less pronounced today. And I'm just curious, is that a charm? Or was the other day exaggerated for some reason? Or... why is this so different?"

"That is actually an excellent question, Ms. Brown, and quite respectfully put. I speak several languages, and was not in an English-speaking environment just before arriving here for the start of term. Now that I am here, immersed in English so to speak, I am again beginning to think in English. My body, my pronunciation, follows my mind. So, over time, my accent will modify accordingly. Good question, steady nerve, one point to Gryffindor for the question, another for daring to ask it."

"Excellent!" he said, as the four volunteers came down the steps and took corners of the center square. The Professor walked to the center of the room, and calmly instructed...

"Now, gentlemen, please draw your wands..."


	5. The Battle of Memphis

_**A/N** Gentle Reader, I so apologize for the length of this chapter. It really is just ONE SCENE and I could find no logical or reasonable way to break it in half. Feel free to offer suggestions if you like, or just take your time and read it across a couple sessions. It was great fun to write, and I hope I didn't just get caught in my own enthusiasm. Please review, and I appreciate constructive criticism. - Mort._

 **The Battle of Memphis**

Confused and more than a little apprehensive, all four boys drew their wands. Uncertain where to aim, instinct took over and found each targeting the "opposing house" boy diagonally opposite him. Unconsciously, their feet also shifted into the counterbalanced stance used for dueling. None of this was lost on Professor Konstantyn, who - standing in the center as he was - found himself the target of all four boys.

"Gentlemen, I said _'draw'_ your wands, not _'aim'_ them. In many cultures, taking the posture you now hold would be considered provocation requiring response. Please lower them for the moment," and seeing compliance, continued, "Thank you. Now..."

He struck his staff, which some recognized as a "Mage Staff" capable of channeling a wider spectrum of magic than simply a wand, soundly into the center of the room. The staff stood there. bolt upright, stock still, as he released it. A flash of light accompanied the strike, and a dome of illumination began to grow around its center as the Professor walked away and stood at the edge of the space. A low frequency hum, a thrum, resonated almost below hearing, as the light grew in its area and intensity.

At the floor a mist seemed to accumulate, but only within the globe of light, now about three meters in diameter.

"Gentlemen, please aim your wands at the head of my Staff, and focus on 'cooperating' with me. Thank you."

The Professor's eyes closed as his hands made a quick series of motions and gestures, and about waist high, a scene of sandy desert, miniature palm trees, and a blue water coastline off to one side, seemed to coalesce from the mist to solidity.

The tips of the boys' wands began to glow as they could feel power begin to emanate from them. There was a sense of warm vibration, of connectedness, between each young wizard and both the Staff and the Professor. It was an unusual sensation, a bit seductive and comfortable, yet not overwhelming. Each boy still felt "in control" of himself, and yet part of a greater whole at the same time.

The Professor opened his eyes and looked on his scene approvingly. Most of it appeared very sharp and clear, but now and again parts grew a bit hazy and blurry.

"Right. Now, gentlemen, each of you are maintaining this environment in the area nearest you. That is, each of you are holding together about a quarter of the scene. Just nod if you understand, and hold your concentration."

All four nodded, as bits of the "stage" became fuzzy for just a moment.

"You can see that when your concentration flags, the definition of the area is reduced. So, you must hold your concentration to keep everything solid.

"Now, let us add a new feature..." and again, the Professor extended his hands with another small set of gestures, and a river began to manifest, creeping from the edge opposite the sea, to meet the coastline with a massive spreading of minute finger-like streams. Slowly and gently he relaxed and removed his hands, and the boys nearest the river understood that was now also part of what they were to maintain. After a few bobbles, the river stabilized as steady as the rest of the scene.

"Very good... Very well done, gentlemen," he smiled. "Now, can anyone tell me yet, where we are? What are we looking at?"

Hermione's hand shot up, as did a few others. The Professor smiled, looked at Hermione, and said, "Challenge acceptable, Ms. Granger?"

"Yes, Professor," she answered smiling, and put her hand down.

"Yes, Mr. Bletchley," he indicated a student.

"That looks like Egypt, sir. The Nile Delta," Miles answered.

"Well spotted, Mr. Betchley. One point to Slytherin," and the delicate chime sounded.

"Now, gentlemen, I am going to add significant complexity to this... I call it a 'Diorama', by the way. I teach using this type of modeling a great deal. You will not be responsible for maintaining what I am going to do. But try not to let it distract you, either. You are to maintain the general environment as you are doing. Nod if you understand me..."

All four boys nodded, slight smiles appearing here and there as they began to enjoy this exercise and their part in it.

"Very good... One moment now..." as the Professor's eyes closed and his hands moved, The scale seemed to shift, to create a more panoramic view, sailing ships appeared along the coast and out at sea, forces... Persian forces... of legions and cohorts appeared having debarked from ships along the coast. Then, out some distance from the river and the Delta, structures appeared, including palaces, terraces, buildings and homes. Away from these some distance, armies began to manifest... Egyptian armies including infantry, chariots, horsemen, camels... Persian troops seemed to be pouring from the ships landing on the shore, while at the same time, Egyptian troops seemed to be gathering from cities and surrounding environs to mass at their rallying point several miles across the desert.

Every eye in the class was riveted on the Diorama, as the four volunteers struggled to maintain enough concentration not to collapse the lot. The Professor was not kidding when he said they were maintaining the environment. If their focus wavered for even an instant, part of the stage grew fuzzy and weak.

"Ms. Granger, please stand and draw your wand," and he nodded as she did so. "You are now the official Fleet Magician for the forces of Alexander the Great, son of Philip II of Macedon. You have assisted him in conquering most of the known world.

"Now!..." the Professor turned with a suddenness that set his robes swirling... "Who is willing to challenge Ms. Granger in battle? Before you volunteer, know that the winner will gain multiple house points, and the loser will cost their house points. Unless..." he paused for dramatic effect dropping his voice...

"Unless the loser chooses... voluntarily... to preserve their house points and take a detention instead.

"So... assuming my terms are still acceptable to Ms. Granger," as he paused to see her nod after a moment of consideration, "Good. Who chooses to challenge her as chief magician of Memphis... the High Mage of Egypt?"

One determined hand arose, staring at Hermione with a look of sheer contempt.

"Ah, Mr. Goyle... So good of you. Please stand and draw your wand." With a delicate gesture, the Professor rotated the entire Diorama, so that Hermione stood behind the Mediterranean and Gregory Goyle stood behind the desert. Pyramids, oases, and the structures of Memphis appeared in their appropriate locations, and details of caravan routes were barely discernible on the dune-covered sandy surface.

"Now, my Mages... battle is about to commence. You are to assist your forces whether by bolstering them, or by hindering the opposition, through _'ecologically appropriate'_ means. That is, you must make your magical interference appear natural, rather than magical. You cannot manifest monsters or dragons, nor enable your forces with super powers. You may only do 'natural things' though with unnatural, that is magical, means.

"You will manifest your choices through pointing your wands at the Head of my Staff, and sending your will, whether by visualizing it, or clear projection of effect. Let us see how this plays out... BEGIN!"

Faint trails of light flowed from the glowing wands of Hermione and Greg connecting them with the jeweled Headpiece of the Professor's Staff. The Professor stood back a pace, both arms outstretched towards the Diorama, looking like a conductor in front of a choir.

The Egyptian armies split into three forces, one central and two flanking. Chariots and horse riding cavalry headed upwards onto higher ground at the flanks, as infantry and spearmen formed great phalanx formations on the more level plains of sand. Persian forces debarked speedily, sorting themselves as well into formations and establishing a camp of tents and picket lines for horses, slightly inland from the port.

Goyle appeared to strike first, as the seas began to churn and winds picked up seeming to drive the ships off the shore out towards deeper water. Captains and sailors scurried with some desperation, striking their sails and setting sea anchors and drogues to keep from being driven into the hulls of other ships of the armada.

The Professor nodded approvingly at Goyle, acknowledging his opening gambit.

Hermione responded forming waterspouts from the errant winds, drawing considerable seawater into the "upper atmosphere" of the dome, and forming cumulonimbus clouds creating formations of thunderheads and anvil-shaped stormclouds. She drifted them slowly inland, allowing the ongoing churn of the sea surface, and waved her wand slightly in a swirling motion rather like a cowboy's lasso. She seemed to release the twirl towards the Egyptian forces and settled back to focus on the Headpiece.

Sirocco winds formed from the moisture and the low pressure center she had sent twirling into the sands. Energy swirled all around her enemy's forces, particularly affecting all the animals. Camels simply lay down and curled their heads into their bodies for protection, with reckless disregard of their human handlers, who were, in very short order, quite too busy keeping themselves in place to worry about beating their animals. Chariot horses, trussed to their vehicles that were now buffeting in the wind wildly, kicked and bucked wildly, destroying their war machines and dragging hapless handlers off in their wakes. Some of the quickest and most experienced riders of war mounts dismounted and had their horses lie down, using their own cloaks to protect the face of their mounts and keeping themselves unchoked. Most, however, were unceremoniously dumped to the ground as their rearing mounts dislodged them and then bolted away seeking more sheltered locations.

 _"Filthy little mudblood!"_ Goyle muttered almost under his breath. Furious, he had lost nearly all his cavalry and chariots, but his infantry still held together. He responded by reaching with his mind into Granger's thunderheads and raining down lightning onto ships' masts and her own cavalry formations, spreading devastation and panic wherever possible.

Right about now, both Granger and Goyle began to feel a bit short of breath. They were experiencing an unusual level of fatigue. It became difficult for them to maintain their upraised arm and wand focus. They were... tiring.

Hermione realized both the condition and its implications before Greg did. Apparently, the Professor's magic simulated some real world factors, like such extravagant expenditures of magical effort having weakening and fatigue effects. She looked at Goyle and saw his arm and wand beginning to flag as well. Each great lightning bolt came with a happy grimace on his face and twitch of his wand, but his wand seemed a bit less potent with each strike.

She had felt the effort flow from her as she generated the Sirocco Storm, but once its cyclones were moving, she had respite to recover. " _So..."_ she considered... " _if I can do something that is very slight, very harmonious with nature so that natural law does most of the work, I can conserve my power as he expends his."_

So, Hermione gentled her thinking, urged the clouds along beyond Memphis with just the mildest of zephyr winds, and began making them _"feel heavy"_ and begin to rain. Fog also began to drift down... but raindrops drenched the desert, creating mud wallows in all the gullies and depressions.

At the same time, Goyle was so enjoying his thundrous attacks that he ignored the sense of fatigue. Adrenalin had driven him beyond reflection or caution, and he continued to rain down lightning and hail - when he could muster it - on the camp, the docks, and the ships. He failed to notice how many forces, how many formations of infantry, spearmen, and bowmen were slowly and methodically moving out of the danger zone onto the desert caravan routes. He also paid next to no attention at all to the condition of his own forces, failing to notice that they were becoming hopelessly mired in mud and muck.

Hermione noticed, along with most of the rest of the class, that the light connecting their wands to the Headpiece was gradually growing dimmer. She theorized that the light was a reflection of the energy, the magic, they were contributing to the scenario. She could see that hers was much dimmer than it had been at the start, and that Goyle's was nearly spent all together. She decided, therefore, to do one more thing to finish. She cast a charm on all her marching forces, granting them refreshment, energy, health, and strength as clearly as she could conceptualize that... and spent the last of her strength and energy reserves to impel that towards the Headpiece.

With that last, she dropped her arm and looked towards the Professor, asking, "May I sit, Professor?"

"You may, Ms. Granger. And well done. We shall see how things turn out now," as his hands continued to maintain their position outstretched towards his globe of light.

Goyle felt elated thinking that he had surely won the day. After all, he was yet standing and Granger was down, right? Triumphantly he continued lashing his wand towards the Headpiece thinking to continue his storming assault, until even he came to realize... nothing more was happening. There was no light proceeding from his wand tip. There was no more thunder or lightning coming from the storm clouds. There were no more turbulent waves or buffeting winds whipping the ships. All there was now was... rain... Solid, unending, steady, sheets of rain falling on his forces covering them in mud and whipping them with driving wind from behind them.

With that realization, his fatigue hit him and he, too, dropped his arm and asked to sit. The Professor approved.

"This has been wonderful, class! Now, let us see how this transpires..." the Professor said, as an hourglass materialized over the Diorama, and all saw the sands speed up as the forces moved along in this war at a "fast forward" pace.

In the next ten minutes, it became clear that the Persian forces had lost some ships and resources. But once the storm passed, they just went back to their process of disembarking their personnel and materiel, establishing their forward camp, and organizing their forces.

The Persian troops already in the field stayed out of the low ground and steadily marched their way across the dunes towards the Egyptians. Many officers had managed to keep their mounts, and directed slings-men, archers, and spearmen to high ground overlooking the mud wallows and quicksand like depressions where Egyptian infantry were effectively trapped.

Persian infantry arrayed just beneath missile launchers, to protect them from those fighters who succeeded in freeing themselves from the low ground and attempted to charge up the dunes in defense.

In short, the Egyptians were soundly defeated by Alexander's army, and ultimately surrendered. Alexander the Great conquered Memphis, and with it, Egypt.

"Very, very well done, Everyone. And congratulations to Ms. Granger," and with these words, the Professor clapped his hands once, loudly, and everything in the dome but for the Staff itself, instantly disappeared. Taken by surprise, the four volunteers found their arms and wands dropping unexpectedly to their sides, as if a supporting line had been cut - which, in a sense, it had.

"Gentlemen, you may take your seats," the Professor smiled as he spun to gesture them towards their desks. "Class, let us give them a round of applause for a job well done. I assure you, that is a very tiring task, and they performed it very well, indeed." The Professor joined all in applauding his "volunteers".

"Now, as to Challenges and decisions to make... Ms. Granger, 10 points outright to Gryffindor. Mr. Goyle, 10 points FROM Slytherin, unless you choose to take detention with me. To my four volunteers, I offer you a challenge as well... you may each choose to claim 5 points for your house if and only if, you volunteer for detention with me. Otherwise, you may leave the points, and go your own way with no cost at all.

"Now," the Professor smiled with an unreadable expression, "what will it be? And Oh! Ms. Granger? Are you familiar with the gambling term _'to double down'?_ " he asked, a mischievous smile clearly playing about his mouth.

"I am, Professor. It is a blind bet used in BlackJack, risking loss against one card yielding a winning hand of 21," she responded, grateful for her muggle upbringing at the moment.

"Quite so. You are a witch of wide and varied interests. Well, I offer you a Double Down option on your winnings. You may choose to take a detention with me, in exchange for twice the Gryffindor points you've won... bringing the total to 20. That is also your call."

"So, lady and gentlemen, what will it be?" as the Professor closed the class, with his arms crossed holding his Staff.

Not surprisingly, all players opted for the challenge, and chose detention and points.

"Very well, then. I will notify you tomorrow of when to serve your detention. Excellent class! You are all dismissed... except for Mr. Goyle. You will please join me in my office... _now."_


	6. Self Control

**Self-Control**

Goyle cautiously followed Professor Konstantyn into his office, and stood in front of the large walnut desk where the Professor had thumped his Staff as he walked past. The Professor first put his Staff carefully in its stand and _audibly thanked it_ with a gentle stroke of his hand, before walking on a few more paces to an ornately carved walnut wardrobe. He unfastened his billowing outer black robe with its three velvet arm chevrons - denoting his doctoral status - and gently drew the neck with attached deep red-silk lined hood over his head and away from his body. The process made him look, for the briefest of moments, like a Spanish matador flourishing his cape. Carefully mounting the assembly on a padded hanger, he placed the garment into the wardrobe closet, and turned to face Goyle.

Though his pulse was racing, the boy stood his ground and met the Professor's gaze with a steady stare, trying to look calm and indifferent.

"Mr. Goyle, do you know why you are here, right now?" the Professor's stern voice held just a bit more of his accustomed Eastern European accent than it had in class.

"No, I have no idea," Goyle replied, hoping his casual bravado would pass for courage and innocence.

The Professor opened the other side of his wardrobe, and removed a slight switch-like rod from a shelf. He swung it once, with whistling speed, down to strike his right boot and the outside of his wizarding robes, the resulting sound being an all too clear whiplash.

"That is an untruthful answer, Mr. Goyle. I am about to give you a command that, I assure you, you will never want to hear from me again. Right there where you are, place your hands on my desktop, and assume the position." So saying, the Professor had not yet moved from his location across the room in front of the open door of his wardrobe shelves.

Drawing his breath in gulping shreds, pulse pounding in his ears like a drum, Goyle considered his options, and realized he really didn't have any. He had been caned before by his father, and it was brutal. Slowly and deliberately, he placed his hands on the desk before him and stepped his feet back a pace, as he tried to steel his will.

Also slowly and deliberately, the Professor walked towards the desk, lash still dangling at his right side, but went to his own side, the chair side of the desk to address the boy face to face. Goyle was confused.

"Now, Mr. Goyle, I will ask you again, _'do you know why you are here?'_ , and I caution you, speak only the truth from here on. Any hint of contempt or disrespect right now could make this a very unfortunate encounter." The Professor's tone seemed almost brittle in its clarity.

"I am not sure, sir. I presume I am here to be punished," he answered, trying to keep any quaver out of his voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Goyle. That was both an honest and respectful answer. Now, what do you suppose I would call you in here to punish you for? I shall give you a hint. I've already pointed out that I have truly extraordinary hearing."

"Ah," as Goyle's expression revealed his dawning understanding. "I was disrespectful and rude in class, sir."

"Thank you, for that truthful answer. It astonishes me, that in the very same class in which I have made clear one of my most important policies, that students are not to be disrespectful of one another, not to ridicule, or name call... That after as dramatic a presentation as you witnessed in the beginning of class... You would DARE to utter such a filthy epithet as you did, to your challenge opponent!" and with lightning quickness, the lash came down with a thunderous whip crack onto the desktop a good meter away from Goyle.

Nonetheless, the lad's flinch was so profound that he nearly leapt away from the desk all together. But he held his self control and retained his position.

"Now, young man, I want to tell you three things about myself, and I would like you to keep them private. You will not disclose what I am about to say to another soul, on your word of honor. Is that agreed?"

His head spinning, not knowing what in the world to think or expect, all he could reply was... "Yes, sir?"

"Very well. First, you have probably noticed that I have no innate preferences in giving or taking house points. This is true for all four houses. I am totally impartial. I did not attend Hogwarts in my own training. I attended Durmstrang. As such, I have been caned in my lifetime. As, I can see, you have as well. Second, I taught there for many years, and I have caned students. Never brutally, and never without ample justification. However, that brings us to my third and most important point, I do not, and will not cane any student again. This technique is not discipline, it is punishment. It does not teach respect or self-discipline, it teaches only fear and desperation. Taken far enough, it can even teach deep hatred.

"You are not here to be caned or physically chastened, Mr. Goyle. You may resume standing properly. Thank you for your obedience, and I admire your courage. Clearly you have been caned before, and yet would obediently have submitted here and now. That shows real character and self-control," and quite unexpectedly, the Professor offered his hand and, after a moment's hesitation, he and Goyle exchanged a very muggle-like handshake man to man.

"Please sit down," the Professor invited, gesturing to a comfortable chair in front of his desk, as he returned his lash to its cupboard. He then came back also to sit in his own seat as they faced one another to talk. "Mr. Goyle, I simply want to share a few thoughts with you and then you may go.

"Yes, you disobeyed a strict rule of my class decorum, and you will suffer a detention. But that is not truly the punishment for your lapse. You lost your self-control out there. Your contempt for Ms. Granger expressed itself in foul language. You became angry when the battle did not go your way, and rather than focusing on correcting the problem, you focused on raging at your opponent. In doing so, you lost your concentration, your observation, and your ability to think and respond.

"Magic, Mr. Goyle, is an art and science whereby we channel the energies all around us, through the lens of our consciousness... our minds... our passions. When a magician loses their self-control, at best their magic is weakened and ineffective, at worst it can become dangerous to the very causes the magician seeks to promote.

"You have _already_ been punished for losing your temper at Ms. Granger. You _lost_. Your forces were hopelessly enmired, and the enemy you hold in such contempt shredded you on the battlefield.

"Now think about these things, Mr. Goyle. Ponder them. And ask yourself what you want out of your career as a wizard. Do you want precision, control, and the ability to be a truly formidable force? Or do you simply want the passion and catharsis of brief but showy theatrics?"

"Ponder this, young sir. And now you may go your way. You are dismissed. I shall notify you tomorrow of when to report for your detention."

Goyle stood up, walked to the door, and hesitated as his hand reached the latch.

"Professor Konstantyn?" he asked, not turning around.

"Yes, Mr. Goyle?" the Professor answered, in a not unfriendly tone.

"You may call me 'Gregory' if you wish..."

"Thank you, Gregory," the Professor replied without further comment or embarrassing the lad by making him face him - which he would have done in other circumstances. "Have a good evening."

"Thank you, sir," Goyle said, leaving quietly.

The Professor leaned back in his chair for a moment and closed his eyes. _"Perhaps..." he thought. "Perhaps there is hope for that one. We must give it time and see..."_


	7. Challenging Detentions

**Challenging Detentions**

The wee hours of Friday morning found Hogwarts house elves delivering a number of small parchment notes to the bedside tables of a surprising number of students from every house. Written in neat archaic script was some variation on:

"You are cordially invited to join Herr Professor Doctor Pavel Konstantyn at [such-and-such a place], at [such-and-such a time], to fulfill your commitment for detention. Please be punctual."

A few of the notes were a bit unusual. Hermione's, for instance, informed her that she was to spend one hour of her own choosing in the library studying or doing research on any topic of her choice. Since she normally spent 2 or 3 hours every Saturday and Sunday in the library, these instructions made her laugh out loud when she read the note. He had to have known that, of course.

Neville's, on the other hand, terrified him. Neville was to meet the Professor at Hagrid's Cottage after luncheon on Saturday dressed in hiking gear, and he was to bring both his wand and his broom. Neville hated flying and was never very skilled at it. This couldn't be a good thing.

Ron's note seemed just as frightening to him. He was to report to the Professor's office Saturday afternoon at 3 p.m. He figured it had to be lines or something. At least there were no cauldrons to clean in a history class.

Many of the others, including Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, the Weasley Twins, and a number of the most pugnacious students, were instructed to report to the gymnasium at 7:30 p.m. Tuesday evening.

The notes went out, student buzz went frantic with speculation, no helpful information seemed truly forthcoming, and the day's classes moved forward without particular incident.

The Faculty enjoyed the High Tea that evening, dinner was uneventful, and all in the castle seemed to retire for a restful night's sleep. Well, except for Ron and Neville, at least, who slept only in fits and starts certain that doom awaited them the following day.

* * *

Neville couldn't manage to eat a thing for lunch, and when it could be delayed no longer, collected his broom from the school cupboards at the Field House, near the Quidditch Pitch, and trudged down to Hagrid's Cottage. Had he managed attending to exchanges and interactions in the Dining Hall for the noon meal, he'd have been puzzled by what was clearly a cordial exchange between Professors Konstantyn and Snape. They got their heads together, had an animated discussion, laughed a bit, and seemed to be working on a list of something or other as they finished their tea.

Considering Neville's phobia of Professor Snape, it was probably a mercy that he missed the whole thing. Especially since he, Neville, was the principal topic of discussion.

Neville arrived at the cottage and politely knocked on the door, though his stomach felt like it was riding in his boots. Hagrid came, opened the door, and invited him in to sit at the table with him and the Professor. There was a cup of tea sitting at his place cooling off a bit, along with a plate of Hagrid's Rock Cakes. Considering everything - along with the fact that Neville had actually TRIED Hagrid's Rock Cakes before - he chose politely to decline the offer.

The Professor laughed, clapped Neville on the shoulder delightedly, and told him how glad he was that they could spend this time together.

"You did a wonderful job maintaining the stability of my Diorama the other day. Did you know that you were actually carrying nearly 50% of the load for that whole hour? That's extraordinary, Neville. You have a tremendous capacity to concentrate, and that is wonderful. You have a marvelous reservoir of magic within you, my boy. I hope we can help you develop the confidence to tap into it and see what you're capable of..." The Professor paused to draw breath, take a sip of his tea, and look upon a very confused Neville.

Hagrid guffawed, tapped Neville on the shoulder, and said, "What's wrong wi' ye, friend? Ye look like yuv seen a ghost! Relax here, have some tea. What's the matter?"

"But... but..." Neville stammered a bit, "Isn't this DETENTION, sir? Aren't I here being punished?"

"Ah, well," the Professor sat back and stretched out his legs a bit, "that's a very reasonable and good question. Do you FEEL like you're being punished?"

"Um, no, sir," the boy shook his head a bit bewildered.

"Well, do you feel like you deserve to be punished, that you've earned punishment?"

"Um, well, to be honest... No, not really, sir. I don't feel like I've done anything wrong."

"Good. Then let me ask you, how did you get here? Why are you here?"

"Well, I took your 5 point challenge..."

"Correct. That is an act of merit and courage, not shame. And how did you get this opportunity?"

"I helped maintain your Diorama, sir."

"Good. Correct. And how did you have THAT opportunity?"

"You appointed me one of your four 'volunteers', sir."

"Also correct. Now here comes the tough one... _How did you become one of those?_ " and his voice slowed as he had articulated this last question.

Neville broke eye contact and looked down meekly into his teacup as he muttered, "I didn't say 'yes, sir' with the rest of the class when I should have."

"Correct! Well done, Neville! You got through that and look... nothing bad has happened to you or to anyone else. You are not here because you are in trouble and did something wrong. You were not a volunteer because you were in trouble and did something wrong. You didn't even refuse to acknowledge my instructions out of a sense of troublemaking or defiance. You had a moment of fear, a moment of uncertainty, and lacked confidence.

"I am told by some, though I have no idea how this could be, that I can be a bit intimidating. I cannot imagine this, since I am just a sweet old man who teaches history..." and the Professor put on his very best look of innocuous innocence, as he took another sip of tea.

Neville's eyebrows beetled as he struggled to contain the laugh up his nose... and lost the struggle, finally releasing a giggle.

The Professor laughed, saying, "Good, Neville, there's nothing disrespectful about humor. There's a world of difference between good natured 'fun', and caustic belittling, don't you agree?"

Neville nodded.

"Now, this is Detention. All detention means is that you are giving up some of your own free time, and placing it at the disposal of a person in authority. You are being 'detained', literally. Nothing says that time has to be onerous... it simply has to be at my disposal. You will find, that the way I most enjoy disposing of time, yours, mine, or anyone else's... is by teaching or encouraging learning and growth. That happens in many different ways, some pleasant, others not. Therefore, there is absolutely no way to predict or anticipate what a 'Detention' with me will entail. I maintain privacy around that. Therefore," he said, pulling out a prepared parchment and quill, "I would like your agreement, your binding word, that you will tell no one about how we spend this time in detention. You are not to discuss this with other students. Should a faculty member or other adult responsible for your care ask, you may of course share the information. But even at that, please ask that they honor your confidentiality and not disclose this to other students. Do you agree?"

While it seemed a bit unusual, the request certainly didn't seem unreasonable. After all, what teacher would want it getting around that they gave detention that might turn out fun? Neville nodded, and signed the privacy agreement - after reading it at the Professor's insistence.

"Excellent. Well, we are here today because I understand that you are very gifted in herbology and botany, and I have this list here..." he said, dragging a folded piece of parchment out of an inner pocket... "of ingredients that can be found within just a mile or two of here, that would be very appreciated by Professor Snape.

"Together, then, I'd like the three of us to see if we can collect them. You and I will ride our brooms, and Hagrid has a motorbike he can use, even though he would prefer just to walk. We may be collecting some of these items from a bit past the fringe of the Forest, but you will be entirely safe, I assure you," and the Professor watched as Neville stiffened when he realized they would be entering the Forbidden Forest.

"But... but, sir? Students aren't allowed in the Forest. Won't I get into trouble?"

"No, Neville. You have the Headmaster's permission to accompany Hagrid and me today, for the collection of these specimens. I don't expect that you will abuse the privilege and enter the Forest on some other occasion without permission and protection, will you?"

"No, SIR!"

"Very good! Oh, by the way, I didn't know if you got enough lunch, so I had the House Elves pack us some of the treats and left overs from a tea party the faculty had last night," he said, as he opened a napkin and laid out a wonderful sampler of the sandwiches and pastries they'd enjoyed the evening before. "You may want to tuck in a bit, before we go. Foraging has been known to be hungry work."

"Thanks, Professor!" Neville enthused, diving in to the repast like a man pardoned from his own execution.

Hagrid just rolled his eyes as he took another Rock Cake and dunked it in his bucket - er, cup - of tea.

In just a few minutes all were ready. The three of them had looked over Professor Snape's list, Hagrid had a good idea where each specimen could be found, containers were prepared and reduced to convenient pocket size, and Neville knew how to identify and label each item, and store it for potions use.

Neville had left his broom outside at the door, and awkwardly mounted it as they exited. He was shocked, if not to say stunned, to see the sleek black enameled broom Professor Konstantyn climbed on. Harry's Firebolt had nothing on this, clearly, though Neville could make nothing out of the Cyrillic lettering proclaiming its brand and model.

"Professor?" Neville stared at the sporty sleek broom looking more like a missile than a sweeper.

"Erm, yes, Neville. I have a bit of a passion for speed, I'm afraid. This has been customized a bit, by a friend. And yes, it can fly pretty fast and handle pretty well. Don't worry, we won't be going anywhere in much of a hurry. But if I can help you at all, I do enjoy riding and would be glad to encourage you to enjoy it, too. In fact, would you mind trying something for me, today?"

Neville was starting to think this old man could do anything. He certainly seemed worth listening to, so he answered, "Sure, Professor... what's that?"

"Well, remember how you focused to steady the Diorama, when it would get fuzzy now and again? Remember that feeling of ' _centering_ ', of just ' _relaxing_ ' in the stability, rather than trying to 'force every inch'? I don't know exactly how to describe it, but I saw you DO it, so I know you know how."

"Yes, sir. I think I know what you mean. It all got easier when I saw the desert as a whole, instead of one dune at a time."

"Right. Well, see how your broom is swaying back and forth, and you are holding so tightly to the stock that your hands will go numb soon?"

"Yes, sir. I'm afraid if I don't hold on, I'll fall off... or it will take off on its own... or something else."

"Right. Well, don't let go of the stock, but don't look at the broom or the ground beneath you. Look up here at me, or out towards the horizon. Imagine yourself _'steady relative to the horizon'_ , just as you imagined the sand steady. Take that 'bigger view' you had in the Diorama, and apply it here to this landscape. Just try that a moment. I am right here next to you, and I promise, I'll not let you fall. My staff is right here, and I can steady you if need be."

So, bolstered with this encouragement and safety net, Neville did as he was told. He loosened his grip, raised his eyes to the horizon, and tried to picture himself just steady and stable on the lawn.

Totally to his amazement, his _"bucking bronco"_ of a broom suddenly became a gentle mare. He'd never known that you could sit a broom that didn't feel like it was fighting you. It seemed so strange. He knew Harry, and Draco, and bunches of others rode their brooms like they were painted on them. But he'd never known any feeling except _"Neville versus the Broom"_. This... this new sense of... of whatever it was... this was amazing. He lit up with such a smile that he seemed to glow.

"Professor?" he began, "I... I don't understand."

"Don't worry about it, Neville. Nothing bad will happen. Just stay here between Hagrid and me, and keep your gaze where you want to go. We'll not be doing anything daring, but if you want to try something later on... some sort of turn or maneuver, just let me know ahead of time and we can work on it, ok? In the meantime, tell me all about these grounds, and plants and this Forest. This is all new to me, and I know you spend a lot of time here..."

And so the next 90 minutes or so passed seemingly in a flash. Hagrid knew approximately where to find all they were seeking. The Professor would set his staff into the ground and establish a "safe zone" where nothing dangerous could disturb Neville as he collected, labeled and packed away each specimen, and along the way they saw fascinating things. Hagrid took them over a unicorn herd, some centaurs, even Aragog's Lair - which almost unsettled Neville from his broom - until he heard the Professor's voice quietly remind him, "Focused and steady, Neville. We're safely up here. They are down there. No fear. Look out at the horizon and collect yourself..." and then... "Well done, Neville, good job. Great recovery. You can do this easily."

When finished, they flew all the way up to the Castle entrance, as Hagrid headed off home.

"Why don't you take those on to Professor Snape's office while they're fresh, and I will see to the return of your broom? Thank you, Neville, for joining me on so delightful an adventure. Remember our agreement. If anyone asks, you can truthfully say that you were preparing ingredients for Professor Snape's potions stores. That should sound sufficiently dull and obnoxious, shouldn't it?", the Professor gave a quick grin and wave as he shot away on his broom, heading towards the Field House to put Neville's away. It was the first time Neville had seen what it could do, and he suspected even that wasn't the half of it.

* * *

The Professor had just reached the top of the stairs opposite his classroom door as the chimes of the bell tower began to strike 3 o'clock. He could see Ron just walking down the hall to meet him, equally "on time".

"Mr. Weasley! Delighted to see you, thank you for being so punctual. I fear I was nearly tardy myself! That wouldn't do at all, would it?" he laughed.

Ron was a bit confused. He'd never come to detention with a laughing professor before. And while not exactly "breathless", clearly the Professor had been hurrying to make this appointment.

"Come in, come in..." the Professor said, as he opened classroom then office door wide to let the spaces air out. Leading the way into the office, he pointed Ron over towards some very comfortable chairs and a table off towards the end of the office that seemed more like a library than an office space. The alcove was homey, carpeted, dominated by a huge fireplace and mantle above which hung what was clearly the Professor's Coat of Arms. The chairs were leather and comfortably broken in without seeming tatty or worn.

"If you will excuse me for just a moment, Mr. Weasley, please make yourself comfortable, and have a seat at the chessboard there. I've been told you are a very promising player. I thought we might play a game or two. I'm just going to wash up and I'll be right there," he said, as he disappeared into his washroom to freshen up. Emerging, He hung his cloak and outer robes up in the wardrobe, and looked far more relaxed in his informal attire.

Sitting at the chessboard across from Ron, his eyes twinkled as he saw Ron admiring the pieces. In an amazed tone, Ron gasped... "this is bloody brilliant, Professor! Where is this set from? I've never seen anything like this before!"

"Language, Mr. Weasley," he gently chided with a chuckle, "but thank you. Yes, it is a lovely set, isn't it? It's from Singapore, and was crafted by a very gifted artisan. I've had this set a long time. Feel free to explore, and handle the pieces," for he could see the 'twitching fingered' expression on Ron's face, wanting to examine each piece carefully, but unsure if it would be impolite to do so. The knights did not sit astride horses, but Chinese dragons - that breathed fire, no less! The castles were designed after the Great Wall. Each piece was its very own work of exquisite art.

"Sorry, sir," Ron blurted, reminded of where he was. But still he couldn't take his eyes off the set, as gently he reached forward..."but crikey..."

"Quite," the Professor smiled. He then went on, "have you eaten lunch, Mr. Weasley?"

"Er," Ron hesitated, "Yes, sir. I went to lunch."

The Professor chuckled, "that was a very respectful evasion, Mr. Weasley. But that did not answer my question. Let me ask this again, 'have you eaten lunch?'"

"No, not really, sir. I was a bit, erm... distraught."

"Right. I thought that might be the case." The Professor gently waved his wand, which seemed to appear in his hand out of nowhere, somewhere a quiet bell chimed, and momentarily a house elf appeared. The Professor chatted with the elf for a few moments in an unknown, but fascinating sounding, language.

In no time at all, a tray with small plates, flatwear, cups, saucers, two tumblers, sandwiches, teacakes, tea, sugar, lemon, cream, marmalade, clotted cream, and a small jug of pumpkin juice popped into being on the table alongside the chessboard.

The Professor picked up a pawn of each color and placed both hands behind his back as he said, "please make yourself a plate, pour yourself something to drink, and then... " drawing his two hands forward as closed fists, "pick a hand."

"Thank you, Professor," Ron replied, delightedly filling up his sandwich-sized plate with what was clearly a dinner-sized serving, "I'll choose your left hand."

"Right then," opening his hand to reveal a white pawn. "You have white and the first move." Another brief wave of his wand, and the orientation of the board was reversed, giving Ron the white pieces and him the black, as he served himself a snack and poured a cup of tea.

The game went smoothly forward as each took little time pondering play. A "first game" is rather like a "first date". Neither wanted to step out too boldly or play by making wrong assumptions about the other. So while play was certainly not "tentative", each side laid out feelers and baits, to measure the response of their opponent. There was often laughter, as one or another gambit was avoided or overturned... laughter that would have confused a player of lesser skill.

There were also moments of conversation. The Professor explained his "Non-Disclosure Agreement", and secured Ron's signature. Ron talked about his family, his concerns for his little sister, and something of his struggle for a sense of significance in comparison to all his other brothers. They talked a bit about Quidditch, as Ron discovered that the Professor was an enthusiastic fan, well versed in the panoply of marquee players in the game today.

They played two games, with one win apiece, though Ron was quite sure by the time they were finished, that he could have been shut down at almost any moment the Professor chose. He had often been cautioned to examine the board more closely before completing his move. Each time, the correction avoided disastrous consequences.

At 4 o'clock, the Professor "officially ended detention" and liberated Ron to leave if he chose. But together they decided to carry on and finish their game, so it was actually 4:30 by the time Ron headed off. The Professor cautioned Ron not to reveal the nature of his detention, offering the cover story if needed that he'd been teaching Ron some stuff about Chinese art and Singapore history, which they thought would sound dull enough to forestall any further inquisition.

By supper that night, Professor Konstantyn was well satisfied with his day's work. Tonight he planned to sleep the sleep of the righteous. All seemed well with his world.

Of course, such seasons are always fleeting and usually mistaken.


	8. A Quiet Sunday?

**A Quiet Sunday?**

Sunday morning dawned just as bright, clear, and lovely as Saturday had been. The Professor joined his colleagues in the Dining Hall for a leisurely breakfast as students came in and out, preparing for their day at liberty. The assortment of clothing and costumes amused him, and he found himself grateful that the school insisted on class uniforms during the week. _"I must be getting old," he laughed at himself. "I never used to notice or care about such things."_

Headmaster Dumbledore absented himself from the gathering, but that was not unheard of on weekends. Sometimes he was traveling, sometimes just napping after a night spent pacing his office or watching the stars from the Astronomy Tower.

As it happened this morning, he was having breakfast with an old friend in his office, discussing matters of deadly import. Conversation stopped as a matronly house elf popped in, delivering a tray of covered breakfast and luncheon dishes and a tray of tea, coffee, and juice.

"Thank you, Maisie," Albus said, "you're very kind. We'll ring if needed."

"You're welcome, Headmaster, sir..." and she popped away.

"She is delightful, Albus," smiled his guest.

"That she is, Ivailo, my old friend. I know it is breakfast time here, but before you stepped through that floo it was lunchtime for you, so she has brought both. She is very good with our youngsters, as well. Now, I gather there have been developments to bring you here."

"Indeed, Albus. And heaven knows, you have your own problems here to keep track of. In this case, it would seem our problems have collided. Unfortunately, it seems I have exported our Bulgarian situation to England. We have lost all track of Stoian Petrov, and even what tenuous threads we had of his apparatchik. Gone! Poof! Vanished!

"Everything indicates that they have slithered their way here to Great Britain. But whether England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales? Alas, we've no idea," and the Division Chief made a slow sad shrug. The gesture might have appeared flippant, if he weren't so clearly exhausted.

"My dear Ivailo, your appearance is worrying me. When did you last sleep? Or even eat a decent meal? Here, please at least eat something filling while we are here. Just tell me what you have in mind. We have faced dire situations before. We will weather this one as well.

"Pavel is here. He has settled in well. He has focused primarily on Harry's companions and classmates, as Severus, Minerva, and I try to keep a weather eye on Harry. Things seem to be going well, so far. So, what do you have in mind that had you call this meeting?"

"Well, Albus," the Chief began, putting some pickled herring and caviar on toast triangles, "we had Ivan and his team tracing and tracking the Bulgarians, but all that has now run dry. I need to send them to pick up the track over here."

"I see," Albus nodded, also preparing a forkful of food. "What then do you suggest for picking up the trail? If they are as good as you say, they could be underground anywhere."

"Well, I have an idea, and it would be entirely up to you whether you agree. But I think it has the lowest risk to all involved. Still, I'm a bit hesitant to suggest it."

"Tell me. If it reduces risk, it's probably the best option. What have you in mind? And why are you feeling so hesitant?

"I should like to have Ivan inserted here. Petrov or his henchmen are most likely to surface here or somewhere close by whether to get close to Harry or to Pavel. There is a small village just beyond the grounds, is there not?"

"Yes, Hogsmeade is just beyond those hills," Albus replied, looking out to the north of his tower.

"I am concerned about infiltration, or a liaison with your Dark Lord's forces the Deatheater's giving them access to either Hogsmeade or the school. As to why I am hesitant... I shall be frank. The Professor will not be pleased. In fact, it is likely to be far beyond that. Pavel will be furious if I allow Ivan to come here."

"Ah, I see. That could be... awkward. May I ask the nature of the problem?" Albus asked, shaking his head as he tried to think the problem through.

"In brief, let me ask you, what do you know of the death of his wife, Iryna?"

"Nothing, really. We've never discussed it. I haven't seen him except in passing from time to time for many years. We were closer when he and Iryna were just married, but once he left for the East, we've only run into each other at one or another conclave or a Quidditch match."

"Well, not to go into very much detail, Ivan had just been promoted to a Team Leader among my aurors, and Pavel had 'retired' from training aurors and intelligence analysts. He had some analysis, some hints and leads, that he wanted to follow up on tracking Petrov. As it happened, he struck gold and managed to locate his headquarters and penetrate nearly his entire network. Petrov, just before our raid, discovered this and attacked Pavel's home one night in the Christmas holidays when Ivan was to be there for dinner. Petrov thought he would eliminate them all in one attack, and firebombed the house.

"Sadly, while Pavel and Ivan were not there at that moment, Iryna was and died in the conflagration. We raided them almost immediately and there was a huge explosion. Everything and everyone was destroyed, and from the remains we concluded that they had been killed. From then until now there had been no hint of their existence until Ivan started picking up stirrings just a few months ago, and the rest you know.

"When I had a chance to speak with Pavel privately before he came here, he cared about only three things. One: to keep Harry Potter safe; Two: to capture or kill Petrov; and Three: that Ivan be kept safely out of harm's way. Pavel is and was certain that Petrov would find some way to get here, and that by being here himself, he could best protect the Potter lad. The one thing he asked..." Ivailo shook his head, "No, the one thing Pavel _demanded_... was that I keep Ivan in Eastern Europe tracking Petrov, and keep him away from Hogwarts."

"I see," Albus nodded, truly feeling his colleague's pain. "And now, since there is nothing more in Eastern Europe to track, there is no choice but to send Ivan here. Well, I have an excellent plan for adding Ivan to our staff, that will certainly not be a problem. Do you think Pavel will be?"

Ivailo sat back and sighed with deep fatigue. "I wish I knew, Albus." He paused a moment to think. "No... no, not really. Not once he calms down and thinks this through. He and Ivan both being where the risk is greatest, being here where you and Hogwarts and your marvelous staff are so dedicated to the protection of your students... there is no better possible arrangement to be had.

"On the other hand, however, Pavel is not a man to be defied lightly. Have you ever seen him truly angry? Not just irritated or startled, but deeply enraged? Because this will affect him that deeply. He will see this, for at least the initial time, as deep betrayal by me, and defiance by Ivan. It will not be pretty."

Albus laughed a mirthless chuckle, "No, my friend. I've never seen Pavel lose his temper or become enraged. On the other hand, I know a mage, a Master Mage, when I see and feel one. And I know his deep love and his deep anger are not things to trifle with. I shall do all I can to help him and Ivan through this difficult time."

"Thank you, Albus... my truly dear friend. If there is anything I can do, anything you need, anything I can send to help in this situation, let me know instantly and it is yours.

"By the way, Ivan's cover story is that he is coming from America. He has anglicized his name, speaks with an American accent, and does much of his business there in Los Angeles and New York City. Among the muggles there he lives on the fringes of the paranormal community and offers his services as an 'Exorcist'. He introduces himself, 'my name is Constantine... John Constantine', and seems to have a bit of a following there. The paranormal is apparently a 'thing' these days."

After a brief pause, "I am just so sorry that 'my problem' has now become 'your problem', Albus."

"Nonsense! Clearly, 'my problem' sought yours out, offering a great deal of gold in the first place. Sounds pretty fair that we both address the situation, no? By the way, just one small thing. You say 'John' is American. Do you know if he plays football, baseball, and basketball? And most importantly... can he distinguish between 'football' and 'soccer'"

"Albus, my dear friend. Only you could ask such questions. I have no idea, but if those are elements of being a young man in America, then John is probably fine with it. Why do you ask?... No, wait, I so don't need to know.

"I just, thank you. You are indeed a most gracious host. Now, why don't we 'tuck in' as you say, to this excellent repast, before I step back through the floo and - dare I hope - perhaps try for an afternoon nap."

"Best plan I've heard all day!" Dumbledore nodded, as thoughtfully they chewed their way through the rest of their meal in companionable silence.

A few hours later, the Headmaster was back in his accustomed place at the High Table for luncheon, picking at his food. Discretely, he managed to request a meeting with three of his faculty, suggesting that they find their way to his office in about an hour, preferably without being observed by anyone. Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Madame Hooch all acknowledged their invitations discretely in one way or another, so that went well.

"Thank you all for coming, and I promise not to keep you long. Thank you for how well this term has gone so far, and how graciously we have adopted Professors Lockhart and Konstantyn. The rest of this meeting," as he rose and cast silencing charms on the stairway, windows, and even mouseholes... "will deal with some issues surrounding Harry Potter and Voldemort."

At this, Professor Snape rolled his eyes, and muttered _sotto voce "of course it does, Potter again."_ "I do beg your pardon, Headmaster," Snape apologized, after being glared at by all.

Dumbledore motioned everyone towards seats at a sitting area of couch and side chairs, where a tea service, cups and saucers, sat piping hot on the coffee table for them.

"I'll be ' _mother_ ', shall I?" Minerva said, as she poured for each of them.

"Thank you," Albus smiled. "Now, Rolanda," the Headmaster turned to address Madame Hooch, I would like to ask for your cooperation in a bit of subterfuge this semester."

"Well, that sounds mysterious, but I know you'd not ask if it weren't important, so consider me all in," she bustled, in her husky, no-nonsense voice.

"Very well. I must ask that you keep everything we are about to discuss strictly to yourself. Not even other faculty are aware of all that is going on here right now, and that is for everyone's safety." and he waited while she nodded assent. "Good. Now, without going into a whole lot of detail on this, Voldemort has placed a huge bounty on Harry Potter's head, and an Eastern European coven of assassins has made it known that they intend to collect. Authorities there discovered the plot, and are taking measures to protect Harry and try to capture the would-be assassin. Professor Konstantyn's arrival is part of that."

"I've been hearing a bit about him, Headmaster. I saw him at the Tea, but I've not yet had a chance to speak with him much," Madame Hooch replied.

"I hope you do, soon, Rolanda. He's quite interesting. And, unless I'm badly mistaken, I think you'd enjoy some one-on-one Quidditch with him as well. He enjoys brooms as much as you do, and used to be quite a player in his day."

"Ah," she smiled nodding. "Then I shall try to make it my business to see to it. But in the meantime, how may I help?"

"Well, I want to attach another operative, an auror, to our staff to help protect Harry and try to apprehend the criminal... whose name is Stoian Petrov, by the way. The auror will come as an American young man named John Constantine, known as an exorcist among muggles in the United States. Actually, he's the station chief, the Auror in Charge, for the Bucharest protectorate of their Ministry. This is his case, and he has followed it here to England."

"Constantine?" Minerva said, slowly. "John... Constantine? Oh, Albus... you don't mean..."

"Yes, Minerva, I'm afraid I do. John Constantine is the anglicized form. This is Ivan Konstantyn, the Professor's son. And therein lies the rub."

"Why is that a problem, Headmaster?" Snape's velvet voice inquired.

"It is a problem because Pavel doesn't know he's coming, and will be furious when he finds out."

"Oh, my," Minerva said.

"Yes, quite," Albus agreed. "Well, but to answer your question of how to help, Rolanda... I think we should consider expanding the 'Physical Education' aspect of the Hogwarts curriculum. I should like to see Master Constantine assist you in training flying skills, perhaps expanding some classes beyond the first years, along with introducing physical fitness through additional sports, such as baseball, football, football/soccer, basketball, or cricket. We could begin on a strictly recreational intramural level, rather than disrupting the schedules of classes, perhaps offering extra credit of some kind, or house point bounties. Perhaps we can negotiate some arrangement with the mer-folk and start to teach swimming.

"At any rate, are you willing to accept an assistant, and make it seem as if it were your idea for the rest of the faculty and student body?"

"Absolutely, Headmaster. Sounds like it could be great fun! Do you know if this American young man can fly a broom straight or play Quidditch himself?"

"I have it on very good authority, Madame, that he will give you an excellent run for your money!" the Headmaster laughed, relieved at the ease and trust of his staff.

"We'll see about that!" she nodded with emphatic approval.

"Now, Severus, I should like a favor from you as well."

"Of course, Headmaster. How may I serve?" in that silky ambiguous tone that left one unsure of whether he was mocking or not.

"I would like you to have a 'casual word' with our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher -" at which point he was slightly interrupted by an almost ladylike snort from Professor McGonagall...

"Sorry, Headmaster," she said, quickly pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve, "something got up my nose. So sorry..."

"Goodness," Albus said, in an astonished tone, "I didn't know ladies still kept handkerchiefs there... Anyway..." turning back to Snape, "As I was saying, have a word with Professor Lockhart, casually suggesting that perhaps a 'Dueling Club' would be an interesting augmentation for his class. This is a discussion I've had with Pavel, and we think the more students who actually know how to use their wands in fundamental defense, the better. See if you can help Professor Lockhart determine that _his_ idea for a Dueling Club would best meet on Tuesday evening at 7:30 in the Gymnasium.

"This should lend some interest to the semester. Perhaps we can all come along as observers or participants, and see how things go. I know Paul will be there, and if I handle this rightly, we can introduce John in so public a forum that Professor Konstantyn won't be able to gainsay it, or even object."

"I can do that, Headmaster. Glad to," Severus responded. "By the way, I enjoy Professor Konstantyn being among us, judging by the contact we've had so far."

"Good. Good. He is one of the finest men you will ever know, and no one could have a better friend. I'm very glad he's here and helping us protect Harry."

"Here, here," Minerva seconded.

"Well, thank you all for your time. I think we are all set. Enjoy the rest of your day."


	9. Monday, Monday Can't Trust That Day

_**A/N** Some of Professor Konstantyn's history opens in this chapter, including some of his private family life. He discusses some of his relationship with his wife and son, and theirs with one another. **Warning:** An episode of parental discipline is here alluded to as past history, but not in any graphic detail. For their culture, this corporal discipline is typical and customary, particularly at the time, but the Konstantyn's rely far more on the psychological aspects of dread, rather than the fleeting physical element of pain._

 **Monday, Monday... Can't Trust that Day...**

Monday morning dawned gray, damp, and drizzly. Apparently the "lovely weekend weather" charm that someone must have cast, had worn off. Seemingly in parallel, the typically boundless energy exhibited by the student body as meal and class times approached, was equally dulled when the weekend waned.

Professor Konstantyn seemed singularly unaffected as he enjoyed his eggs, kippers, and grilled tomato for breakfast... opting for coffee, rather than tea with his meal. Looking out upon the sea of drooping heads and dragging feet, seemingly about to break out in a chorus of _"The Volga Boatman"_ , the Professor turned to Professor McGonagall beside him, smiled, and said, "Are they always this chipper in the morning, Minerva?"

"Only on Mondays, Pavel," she chuckled. "Well, Mondays and Examination Days at the end of term. We always try to feed them exceptionally well at Exam time, as they approach each meal as if it were their last."

"Ah," he laughed, raising the knife in his hand for emphasis as if it were a wand or baton, "now _THAT_ is true..." he punctuated with his butterknife... "the world over. Exams are like days of unrelenting eclipse. Well," he gazed at the students with a look of some compassion, "for some, disappointing grades makes for unfortunate consequences when they get home. I know well."

While he no longer said "foreign words" in place of English, and had command of most of his consonants, Minerva smiled to realize Pavel still struggled a bit with vowels, and that pesky "v" and "w" thing. His accent had now moderated to what the children would call "vampire-like". He had enunciation typical of muggle Dracula movies, and she laughed at how often muggle-raised students were startled when he addressed them. She imagined that they dread the day he turned to them, saying, _"I vant... to bite..._ _your neck..."_ Would never happen, of course, but still... fun to contemplate.

She carried on the conversation from where they'd left it. "I'm sure you never had that problem with Ivan, though," she speculated, as she cut through some sausages, and dunked a piece in her egg yolk.

"On the contrary, my dear lady," Pavel laughed as he thought back. "Even Ivan had his moments. In fact, he came home one winter holiday with a parchment of solid "Needs Improvement" on his entire grade report."

"What?!" she nearly dropped her fork. "That's just not possible. I knew that lad. He was as bright as they come, and you can't tell me he got derailed by 'sex, drugs' and rock and roll'! I won't believe it! How old was he at the time? What happened?"

Pavel laughed as he sat back in his chair, narrating the memory that played out before his mind's eye...

"He was thirteen. And yes, you are correct, he was exceedingly bright and had perfect grades up to that autumn. I was teaching, though we sent him to a different school so that he did not have to deal with the problems of 'my father is a teacher here', especially as I was teaching a number of different courses. It would have been difficult for him... though he would be held to an even higher standard than other students... there would always be those who thought he would benefit from favoritism. He made the choice to attend a different school.

"But even so, I was a professor and his mother a librarian. I was involved with the government, and, while I'd not yet taken on the cleanup of the auror corruption scandal, I was still known to maintain a high ethical standard. He'd always been expected to live up to family expectations for public conduct, although we gave him his own space to develop, to experiment and adventure, even to disobey from time to time, as he grew into his values and principles."

"So, what happened?" Minerva by now had actually put down her fork and was simply staring at the Professor.

Calmly, he went on eating. "When we picked him up from the station that holiday, he shied away from being embraced by Iryna or me. That concerned us, and we asked if he was well... He just said he was fine, but we needed to discuss something at home. It was a silent, and rather nerve-wracking trip, but once he got his things put away, he came down very somberly and handed us his grade report."

"Iryna was shocked, nearly in tears. I was, of course, angry and shocked. _'How could this be?' I thought. Certainly the work was demanding, and I could see one or two sub-optimal grades... but ALL of them? Nonsense!_

"But before I could speak, and say something regrettable, Iryna put her and on my shoulder and squeezed. I knew to stop and let her talk."

The memory played out...

"My son," she said. "Your father and I love you, totally, entirely, and no matter what you do or how you perform. Understand that first and foremost. Do you?"

And she waited, patiently, for several long seconds as Ivan dropped his gaze and nodded. "Yes, Mother..." he said.

"All right then. Go to your room for a bit, and let your father and me talk," she said, as she felt me stiffen to object, and squeezed my shoulder again. When Ivan left the room I turned to her, but before I could speak she smiled, put her finger against my lips, and said, "Pavel, say nothing for the moment. Just breathe, let us think, and remember back when you were 13, please. I'm just going to make some tea, and I'll be right back."

His reverie passed for a moment as the Professor blinked back tears. "Ah, Minerva, I do miss her so. She was far and away the wisest woman I've ever known, and she always seemed to know just how to make me better. I miss that," at which he shook his head in the briefest moment of annoyance as being 'sentimental' as he returned to his breakfast.

"When she came back, I was calmer. She reminded me that we had often spoken of the challenges in raising a brilliant courageous son, without smothering him or trying to force him into the molds required of our lives or careers. After some discussion, we agreed on how we would handle this, and she felt under the circumstances it would be best if I went to speak with Ivan alone in his room."

"Oh, my," Minerva sighed, beginning to attend to her cutlery and plate again. "I'm sure he was dreading that. I suspect he'd misbehaved a time or two before, and had you 'speak with him alone in his room', eh?"

"Indeed. And that was precisely why we were doing things this way right now. I knocked on his closed door, and with a very steady voice he called out, 'come in, Father,' and rose when I entered - a rule in our house when an elder or lady enters."

The memory carried on...

I held the parchment in my hand, pulled out the chair from his desk, and sat down as Ivan drew a very deep breath. I then told him to sit down, there where he stood at the edge of his bed.

"Son, these are very surprising grades..."

"Yes, sir."

"Is this the best you could do in these classes?"

"No, sir. Not really."

"Then you wanted to perform at a level below your abilities. Is that right?"

"Yes, sir. I guess so."

"Don't 'guess', Ivan. _Think!_ This is a decision you made. Now is this the decision you intended to make, or did you just slack off because others were doing so?"

"It wasn't just others, though yes, that was part of it. It's just that I'm always so... so... ugh." he paused as he seemed to gather up his energy to express himself... "Everything has to be 'perfect'. Everything has to be 'at standard'. Everything has to be 'the best'. I've just felt... I just feel... Dammit, Dad, I just wanted to try something different, something less. I wanted to try being 'just me' for a change."

Pavel turned to Minerva as he laughed out loud, "You should have seen his face, when he realized he'd said 'Dammit' to me," Pavel laughed aloud again at the recollection. "Thank God for Iryna. It was exactly what she'd thought it was. He was adolescent now, trying to 'differentiate' and establish his own identity. He loved us too much for shameful rebellion or hurtful behavior, so this was his 'trial balloon' so to speak. How could he 'rebel', safely, as our son?"

"But Ivan's face, Minerva. He was horrified. I think he feared a nuclear explosion!" and his voice softened a bit, "And, perhaps without Iryna he'd have had one."

The memory went on...

"I see. Well, your mother and I have discussed your grade report, and as you know these are very disappointing grades. However, we don't have to tell you that. And you don't need to be punished to be aware of that. You are old enough now to make some decisions on your own. So... your mother and I have agreed... this is one of those. This is a decision you can make on your own, and we will abide by it.

"But understand this. This parchment, these grades, are now a part of your 'permanent record'. These grades make a statement about you... to the school, to the teachers you've not yet had, to potential employers. This parchment describes you and your efforts in this past semester. Now, these grades make one of two statements about Ivan Konstantyn. Either that he is not too bright, but he is working hard; or that perhaps he is bright, but he is lazy and unwilling to work.

"You must decide, since we both know neither of those statements are true, are you willing to lie or let this parchment continue to lie about you? Your mother and I do not expect, nor even WANT, you to be 'perfect', 'always at standard', or 'always the best'. If we've somehow given you that impression, I truly apologize, though we've worked hard not to do that.

"What we DO want, and expect, is that you always do the best you can with what you have. That you be honest. If you are struggling with something, tell us... we will try to help. But if you find a struggle, some area that you cannot excel in even with help, then so be it! We can embrace and rejoice with you even with a _TERRIBLE_ grade, a _FAILING_ grade, if for some reason that reflects your best efforts. But what we do ask is that you make your best effort. Whether you comply or not, is completely up to you. You are old enough to make some of your own decisions. This is one of them."

I stood up, pushed in the chair, and started to leave. My shocked son stood up as well, saying, 'that's it? Am I not to be punished then?'

"That was not my intention, no. Why? Are you disappointed?"

"Um, no... not at all, sir. Just... surprised, I guess..."

"Well, Ivan, let me ask you then, how do _you_ feel about it? Do you feel as if you _deserve_ to be punished?" I answered, as I turned and waited patiently.

"Well, um... actually, sir. Yes..." as his resolution solidified, "Yes, I think I do."

"Thank you for a courageous and honest answer. What rule or rules do you feel were broken here?"

"I just know better. This was stupid. I know I am to perform my best. I don't want people thinking I'm stupid, OR lazy! I knew it would upset you and Mother. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Very well, son. In that case, all right, I agree. You shall be punished," and he smiled as Ivan stiffened a bit. "First, you will go downstairs and apologize to your mother. You're right, this upset us both. And then..." he looked out the bedroom window into the darkling evening, "there is a great accumulation of snow outside on all our walkways that I was planning to zephyr away before we go skiing tomorrow. I think perhaps you would prefer to deal with a snowshovel to the walkways? No magic?"

 _"Aw... maaan! Daad?"_ Ivan whined in that now oh-so-welcome little boy voice, as my young man was growing up.

"Do I hear a tone of complaint, son? Do you feel ill-used? I'm sure I could think of some alternative..."

"No, sir. No... that's fine. Walkways it is. No magic. Right! I'm all over that!"

"Very good. Now how about cleaning up and coming down to supper. Your mother may be worrying that I'm killing you by now."

"Pfft! Hardly..." the boy laughed. "I'll be right down. And Dad..."

"Yes, son?" as he'd started to turn and leave.

"I really am sorry about the grades..."

Pavel laughed, "I'm not. Better that than piercings or tattoos!" he muttered just barely audibly, as he gave a mock shudder and stepped out, leaving a very confused son in his wake.

"We had a wonderful vacation that year," he smiled, finishing the story, as he folded his linen napkin into the silver ring with his name on it so the house elves could put it away and retrieve the right one later.

"Thank you for that wonderful memory, Pavel. I miss her, too," Minerva nodded, thinking of Iryna. "She adored you both!"

"Yes, she did. And she'd be so proud of Ivan and how he is doing now."

"I know, and so are you!" she laughed, giving his arm a little squeeze as they both stood, and he drew her chair from behind her. _"I just hope you remember that in the next few days..." she thought, wondering how the new arrangements were going to work out._

Classes moved along swimmingly through the day...

Professor Snape gave his accustomed Monday morning examinations, not trusting any students to actually brew anything without mishap. He'd already chatted with Gilderoy Lockhart, observing how it was a shame that students had such little opportunity for practical experience in his field, like... a dueling club, or something. A few moments later Lockhart's face positively lit up with his new, absolutely brilliant idea... as he went rushing off to discuss it with the Headmaster before anyone else could beat him to it. _"Well, THAT mission's accomplished," Snape thought_ , preparing for class.

Professor Konstantyn began to lecture on the comparison and contrast of Persian versus Egyptian magic. There was discussion of power sources, mythologies, gods, and forces... methods of access, ritual, meditation, sacrifice... and view of infinite and eternals, afterlife, mortality, immortality. He assigned everyone to research magical roots for these cultures from their own grade-level appropriate sources, and assigned the findings to be written up in lengths from 6 to 12 inches for the next class.

Madame Hooch taught more flight lessons to her first years, and let a penny drop in each class that it would be nice if there were a bit more recreational sport at the school, what did the students think? She knew this would start the rumor flying through the student body. In the meantime, she took the luncheon hour to make a not-too-quiet suggestion on this topic to Headmaster Dumbledore, along with the truthful statement that students seemed to endorse the idea.

This generated some very encouraging discussion among the entire faculty. Even Pavel added his vote that "the children are so confined in the castle, it would be good if they could get out more." Albus, playing his part to the hilt, feigned hesitation until finally being "convinced" by the unanimity of his staff. Reluctantly, he agreed that he had some ideas he would look into, since everyone seemed so pleased with the project.

Later that afternoon, Pavel headed to the Senior Common room for a cup of tea during a free period before the last classes of the day. He saw that Minerva had the same period free as well, and sat with a cuppa reading a novel. He walked over and sat down close by, not interrupting, but pleased when she looked up and put down her book.

"Pavel, how lovely. Nice to have a quiet moment or two before we head back to the 'madding crowds', is it not?" she smiled.

"Indeed. I love the peace in this room, and the roaring fire year round that never fails to cheer this cool stone chamber. The Hogwarts house elves are quite remarkable," he observed.

"That they are," she nodded.

"Minerva," he began, laughing a bit, "after breakfast I realized I did not quite finish that story of Ivan and his grade report this morning. There was a bit of an 'epilogue' later on."

"Oh?" Minerva sat back, taking a sip of her tea, arching an eyebrow in interest. "And what, pray, was that?"

"Well, you knew Ivan as a small boy. Remember how curious he was?"

"Absolutely! He was into everything. He was forever touching things, anything new, he had to go, look, then pick it up and handle it. He never felt like he'd understood something until he could turn it over in his hands and manipulate it," she laughed, "I remember when he first saw my wand, and that it was different from yours and Iryna's, and the battle we all went through with him explaining it would not be polite for him to handle and use my wand. It was Iryna who finally prevailed."

"Quite so, that's the perfect example. Poor Iryna..." he laughed, "I was off working so much when he was small, though I made it a point to be home every night to eat supper together, and to put him to bed with a story after his bath. But, yes, so much of his initial training in manners and basics, Iryna handled on her own. We held to our cultural traditions, to a large extent, and I was the disciplinarian in serious matters... that 'wait in your room til your father gets home' thing if he'd gotten into any serious trouble. But Iryna was so gifted that she could usually handle him with her words.

"But!" he laughed, "from the time he was the age you remember, and even before that, she had the infinite patience, when he reached for something dangerous - like the fireplace, candle flames, potions or tools - to go to him, stand or kneel there with him, say 'No, don't touch'... and wait for him either to obey, or reach out whereupon she would spat the back of his hand. She would not shout or get angry, she would simply wait and watch him decide whether to obey or not. Each time he reached out, however many times that was, she would spat his hand... just that hand... growing harder each time. Until finally he would give up, determining that the sting was no longer worth the object, and he'd say, "OK, mummy," and move on to something else. She would then hug and cuddle him, and thank him for his obedience.

"Well, by the time he started his preliminary schooling, he had pretty well learned what not to reach out for, or responded to verbal instructions obediently. But that simple gesture became a 'code' for them. When, as a boy, he knew he had done something wrong and his conscience bothered him, or if he knew he was going to get in trouble for something, he found it easiest to admit wrongdoing to her by opening the conversation with climbing up in her lap, reaching out to her, and saying, 'you may want to swat my hand.'

"She would say, 'I see,' and take his hand in hers.'And why should I wish to do this?' and he'd bashfully admit whatever it was. Normally it was some simple rulebreaking or even just childish clumsiness that broke something. She would then give his hand a token pat, and either assure him that accidents happen and he was not at fault, or... if he had done something wrong, but owned up to it, she'd assign him some consequence usually related to setting the situation right, or deny him some privilege or liberty for a sufficient time to make her point clear.

"Sometimes... not often, but it happened from time to time, he had broken one of our cardinal rules, and we all knew it would be one of those rare 'wait in your room 'til your father gets home' events. Even then, he was wise enough first to go to her, if it was possible, and make his confession. She would still spat his hand before sending him to his room, but they both knew things would be better when I got home if she explained the situation to me with our customary cup of tea on arrival so that we could talk.

"I would usually then call Ivan to my study and have 'the talk' with him. What were the circumstances, what had he done, what rule was broken, what should he have done, and did he have any excuse or factor that would modify the situation? We always did this immediately after Iryna and I finished our tea. I'd then send Ivan back to his room to wait for me and await his doom. Fifteen minutes later or so, I would go to his room and put the poor boy out of his misery. When the ordeal was finished he would want to hug as he cried, and I'd always hear the muffled, 'I'm sorry, Papa' in my chest. I'd hug him and assure him that I knew that, he was forgiven, and that we loved him very much, both when he behaved and just as much when he did not. That as far as I was concerned, this was a closed situation, and we need not bring it up again. I'd then go back downstairs, and an hour later or so we would eat supper.

"It makes me laugh to remember... Iryna would always put a cushioning charm on his chair, and prepare his favorite dessert when it happened. Sometimes he would laugh to find the charm, and bounce up and down brightly, saying... 'Mum, I don't need this, it doesn't hurt at all now. But it's fun to bounce on!' I would try to glare and keep from laughing, and say something about losing my touch, perhaps we should try that again. Ivan would sober immediately, saying, 'No, Papa, that was just fine. No more is needed,' and we would all laugh. Eventually, that too, became a family jest.

Anyway, I tell you all _that_ to make sense of _this_... when our 13 year old Ivan came downstairs to apologize to Iryna, he offered her the back of his hand as he said, 'I'm very sorry, Mother. I behaved badly,' and she joyfully laughed as gently she took his hand and swatted the top of it. 'No more of that, all right? Let's find some better way to rebel!' was all she said, and that was it.

"Three days later we were in a delightful lodge enjoying a day of skiing, and the scamp was looking around at all the other fashionable skiiers also on holiday. A group of wildly dressed older teens passed our table, squealing, giggling, muggles. A couple of them had brightly dyed hair, orange and... neon green, I think.

"Ivan, you recall, had raven-black hair, that he tied neatly back, and jokingly said, 'Mother, maybe I'll dye my hair purple. How would that be as a 'statement of teen rebellion', eh?' I was just lifting my hot cocoa to my lips taking a gulp, when she said, 'I don't know, son. Let's see...' and surreptitiously flicked her wand, coloring Ivan's hair a brilliant bright purple, and styling it into spikes at full length.' Not only did it seem like the color would glow in the dark, but the spikes gave him the look of a sea urchin. It was so unexpected that I spit my cocoa out all over the table, spraying the both of them.

"Iryna turned to _ME_ , with an absolutely deadpan stern look of disapproval saying, 'Pavel! Manners! I can't take you anywhere!' and, seeing that we were unobserved by muggles, cleaned everything instantly, without even cracking a smile.

"What could I do? So, I sincerely apologized to the both of them for my lack of manners, and commented that I thought Ivan's hair was most becoming. Never let it be said that Iryna did not get back her own in her own way. Ivan could not see the full effect of his new coif, but excused himself to check the mirror in the men's room, whereupon he came back to the table, stomping furiously and demanding that she change him back.

"I cleared my throat, as he was verging on unacceptable discourtesy and disrespect of his mother... he took the hint immediately and began to beg instead. Iryna simply laughed and shook her head, saying he could try this out for the day. That she was sure it would sort itself out by the time we went to supper. At which point she rose, and we carried on for our afternoon of skiing.

"I must say..." the Professor's voice dropped a bit, "there was no mistaking him on the slopes that day, no matter how far away he was, you could see that head for miles. It was lovely."

Minerva had been laughing ever since hearing of Iryna's "hairdressing". "Oh, that was so typical of her, Paul. I'm sure it was a day the boy never forgot. And it must have been great fun."

"It was, and by the end of the day he even dared tease that he was starting to like it, perhaps she could make it permanent!"

"Anyway, dear lady, I'm sorry I've occupied all of our free time, and it's now time to return to the trenches. But I thought you'd enjoy hearing, as they say, 'the rest of the story'."

"Oh, I have, Paul. Thank you so much for sharing it. You've made my day. I'll spend the entire next period imagining my third years sitting there with huge spikey purple heads."

"Hmmm..." Pavel chuckled, "might make for an interesting Transfiguration exercise, no?"

"It might at that, but I'm not sure I want to teach them how to do it on one another! Or us!"

"Ah, true. I had not thought of that..."

"I'm sure, Paul. I'm sure..."

And he held the door for her, as they exited to class.

That evening, at the Dinner Hour, the Headmaster made two announcements. One: Professor Lockhart had agreed to sponsor a Dueling Club, that would first meet the following evening at 7:30 in the Gymnasium, and that it would be a general area appropriate for wand practice and spell casting. All students were encouraged to attend, and faculty was invited to help coach and marshal the practice. Two: in keeping with the suggestions of both students and faculty, Hogwarts would be taking on an Instructor in Physical Education, to assist Madame Hooch and engage in other sports activities. It was hoped that the instructor would arrive sometime late tomorrow.

The student assembly was delighted with these developments, sparking an even louder than normal din of their shrill excited voices throughout the meal.

Yes, all in all it had been a very successful, sneaky, day...


	10. Day of Reckoning

**The Day of Reckoning**

Tuesday's breakfast was all abuzz as everyone seemed to be asking everyone if they were going to the Dueling Club that evening. Simply put: it seemed everyone was. Spirits were elevated enough that Professor Snape whispered a suggestion to the Headmaster.

Professor McGonagall tinged her water goblet commanding silence in the Hall, so that Headmaster Dumbledore could announce: "I realize we are all very excited about this evening's class, but I remind you that your wands are NOT to be flourished in this Hall, nor anywhere else but in class or under the supervision of your instructors. Please put them away, and keep them so until authorized otherwise. Thank you."

All the adults breathed a bit more freely, as at least 30 students had been "demonstrating" something or other they planned to use that night.

"It's going to be chaos, Headmaster," Severus prophesied.

"No, I don't think so, Professor. I've seen the plans for the layout. They'll have five dueling lanes set up, with monitors for each. Students will line up by class and house to await their turns. You, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Professor Konstantyn, Madame Hooch, Professor Lockhart, and Madame Sprout will all keep order at each runway. I shall be there as well, and I think it will all go fine," the Headmaster nodded.

"Besides," Dumbledore added with a slight smile and twinkle, "we'll have Madame Pomfrey standing by, just in case you are correct."

"Ah, that _fills_ me with confidence, Headmaster," and there was no mistaking the irony in Professor Snape's tone, this time. Everyone within four seats overheard the exchange, and couldn't keep from laughing at Severus' remark. An upraised eyebrow seemed to express his utter lack of humor, which no one believed for an instant.

Professor Konstantyn was heading up the last stairs a half hour or so before class to prepare, when he heard echoing behind him the quickly overtaking footsteps of Hermione Granger.

"Professor? May I have a quick word?" she asked, slightly breathless as she caught up.

"Certainly," he acknowledged her, as he pointed on to his classroom door. "Is anything wrong, Ms. Granger? You seem... troubled."

"Not exactly, sir. Well... kind of. But not really..."

He didn't want to laugh at her discomfiture, but it was a bit unusual to see her so less-than-sure of herself.

"Well, out with it then," he smiled. "What may, or may not, be wrong?"

She drew out the small parchment of her Detention Slip. "Well, Professor, it's about this," and she handed him the slip.

"Yes, this was your Detention assignment. I presume you have completed it, have you not?" he looked up in surprise. He'd never have thought she would fail to complete it.

"Oh, of course, sir. But... well, that's the problem you see. I'm not sure you're aware. I spend a few hours in the Library EVERY weekend. This isn't really a penalty, like a real detention, when it's something I ordinarily do all the time, is it? I mean, Ron and Neville had detention with you this weekend, and they were really nervous about it, and when I asked them how it went they didn't want to talk about it, so I figured it must have been hard. And this detention," indicating her parchment, "wouldn't be hard at all. So, I was just concerned that... well, that..." her voice trailed off.

"Ah, I see." The Professor leaned back against a student desk and crossed his arms. "You have a concern that your friends were severely punished, and you were not. I am curious, is your concern one of 'fairness', that you should be as severely dealt with as they were because you are 'all in this together'? Or is it a concern that I not be severe with _them_ because they are boys, and lenient with _you_ because you are a girl?" and his smile was both challanging and mischevous at the same time.

"To be completely honest, sir..." she took a deep breath. "It's a little of both. If my detention was not a mistake, and you knew I spend that library time, all well and good. But if it was intended as punishment, well, I didn't want to accept this under false pretenses."

"Very commendable, Ms. Granger. I will hereby give you my word, that I will never temper my discipline or requirements of you simply because 'you are a girl'. I shall be just as demanding, and just as strict with you, as I am with any of the gentlemen in the class. Agreed?"

"Thank you, sir."

"And as for the other matter, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom both spent some time with me as we got to know each other and did some things together. They both seemed to enjoy the encounters. I asked them to keep that information to themselves, and I'm pleased to hear they honor that. But rest assured, they were as surprised as you are at the nature of their detentions.

"I made no mistake, Ms. Granger. Now..." he said, briskly standing straight again, and backing away from her towards his office, "I must get on to be prepared for class, as should you. Besides, if I had intended to 'punish' you, Ms. Granger, I'd have assigned you to assist your classmate, Mr. Potter, aiding Professor Lockhart with his fan mail!" as he turned on his heel so suddenly his robes flared out like a cape.

Hermione screwed up her nose at this last suggestion, allowing a quite audible "Eeewwwww..." to escape her lips, accompanied by a most unladylike snort.

Without missing a beat or turning back around, the Professor said, "What was that, Ms. Granger? Did I hear any comment of disrespect regarding our esteemed Professor Lockhart?" he 'shouted' in mock disapproval.

"No, Professor. Certainly not. I was just... er... clearing my throat," Hermione responded instantly.

"Ah, of course. I was certain that was what I heard. Good day, Ms. Granger. See you later in class."

"Yes, sir. Later then," and she bounced out and down the stairs.

Classes that day moved along right smartly, as no students wanted to have any left over homework or detentions interfere with their anticipated dueling practice. Almost every professor fielded at least one student inquiry per period asking if they would be in attendance. Nearly all the faculty were planning to be there, whether out of concern or mere curiosity.

At 3 p.m., Headmaster Dumbledore and Madame Hooch met in his office, to floo to the Three Broomsticks Inn and Tavern in Hogsmeade. As they stepped through the fireplace of the Pub, a young man in quietly dark traveling robes stood politely and offered his hand to them both.

"Master Constantine, how good to see you!" Dumbledore bustled over, gently batting away "John's" hand, and giving him a brief but heartfelt hug. "I haven't seen you in ages, you look marvelous." and as he stepped back, "Allow me, please to present Madame Hooch, with whom you will be working at Hogwarts."

Madame Hooch, on the other hand, graciously accepted John's handshake, saying, "I've heard so much about you, sir. I look forward to our time together."

As she began to sit at their small table in a nook of the Pub, John smoothly stepped to seat her and slide in her chair. "And I, you, Madame. Headmaster, it is so good to see you, too. I think I was still in school when last we met?"

"Indeed. Though you had just been authorized to apparate, and I believe the novelty had not yet worn off," he smiled, remembering how irritated it had made Pavel as the youngster apparated to and from the house as they tried to enjoy afternoon tea one day in their gardens. Ivan kept "forgetting something" and having to return to the kitchen to get it.

"Oh, gosh. I remember that. I'm so sorry, Headmaster. Please forget that day ever happened," he laughed in embarrassment.

"Certainly not!" the Headmaster barked. "It was one of my most enjoyable afternoons. You have lovely gardens," he said, knowing the home had been rebuilt and restored after the fire.

John and Madame Hooch chatted for a few minutes over a mug or two of butterbeer, discussing his work in America and the paranormal community there, along with a little bit about his background and flying, quidditch, and sports. When their drinks were finished, all stood and made their way to the floo for their return trip.

"I shall have a house elf fetch your luggage and take it to your quarters. Your father is teaching right now, and the residence wing of the castle should be clear for you to unpack and freshen up. I'm sure it has been some trying travel."

John nodded, "A bit, sir."

"Rather than introducing you at Dinner in the Hall which I would normally do, I think it would be better if you just enter the Gymnasium with Madame Hooch. Your father will already be there, and I anticipate less... erm... stress with your introduction if we are all in public at the time."

"Thank you for that, sir. He and I have done enough... uh..." and he paused, wondering how much he could or should say in front of Madame Hooch.

"It's all right, John. Madame Hooch knows what is going on here."

"Ah, thank you. Well, Father and I have done more than enough undercover work, both with and without one another, that I have no doubt he'll betray nothing by his demeanor when he sees me. But that says absolutely nothing about how things will go when we get off in private," he sighed. "But..." he heaved a deep breath with resolve, "we'll burn that bridge when we come to it, won't we?"

Both Hooch and Dumbledore were impressed by the young man's flawless American accent... rather 'middle-America' and bland... as well as his colloquialisms. No one would take him as anything but a California - perhaps - wizard, making his way through life as an investigator of the paranormal and an exorcist.

At 7:30 precisely, the double doors of the Gymnasium opened wide, and students were stunned to see the changes that had been made. The room had been expanded, to about the size of a soccer field's - football field's - area. There were bleachers along the walls for those who chose not to participate. A huge disjointed "H" had been formed from five dueling runways. Two parallel lanes on either side of a central space with a single dueling lane oriented crosswise in the center, and space of at least 10 feet or 3 meters all around each. It looked rather like equal signs (=) at the termini of a single dash (-).

Students entered to find their four Heads of Houses - Professors McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick - standing in the center with Headmaster Dumbledore, as other faculty entered with the student body, keeping some order to the herd. Professor Konstantyn, Madame Pomfrey, even Hagrid were among these, as the Professor's heavy staff was heard to thump the ground a time or two to discourage jostling when it got a bit too enthusiastic.

As the last few students trickled in, and all found seats to receive instructions, Madame Hooch and Master Constantine inconspicuously entered from the fireplace floo, centered at the furthest wall from the entrance.

As quiet finally settled, the Headmaster began to speak. "First, I want to recognize and thank Professor Gilderoy Lockhart..." turning to look his way, and holding out his arm to invite the man "center stage" - "for suggesting such a wonderful means to allow you to practice your wand and casting skills." He began to applaud, as the entire room joined him, and Professor Lockhart began to bow to each of the bleachers with his best impersonation of humility.

Then, Dumbledore turned towards Madame Hooch at his other side, saying, "And in addition, it is my pleasure to introduce our newest faculty member, Master John Constantine, from the United States, who will be our new Director for Physical Education." also extending his arm to invite them both to join him in the center.

John waved in a friendly manner to all, and also bowed - only once, and not so theatrically. His eyes only briefly locked with those of his father, and it nearly made his blood run cold. He could read him like a book, and he knew that never in his entire life, had his father been more angry at him than he was at this moment. But not even a muscle twitch on the old man's face would have given that away, as politely he smiled and applauded the "new staff member" with the rest of the admiring throng.

"Take it away, Professor Lockhart!" the Headmaster enthused, as he stepped aside with the others.

"Excellent! In light of the dark events of recent weeks, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Dueling Club... to **train** you all up, in case you ever need to defend yourselves, as I myself have done on countless occasions. For full details... see my published works," and so-saying he untied his deep forest green brocade cape, gave it a twirl, and sent it sailing out into a tittering cluster of second and third year coeds.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape..." and all watched the morose professor walk towards Lockhart and the center lane. "He has sportingly agreed to help me with a brief demonstration. Now I don't want any of you youngsters to worry," quickly he added, raising an admonishing finger to his "audience". "You'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him. Never fear."

The two of them drew their wands and walked to stand face to face in the middle of the center lane. Smartly they saluted, flicking wands up before them, then down to their sides. Smartly they bowed, stiffly from the hip. Smartly they turned on their heels, stepping apart to 10 paces between them, all according to ancient ritual for dueling.

Thus far, all went according the Professor Lockhart's plans. But then, rather suddenly, it didn't.

Both turned and assumed the ready position, Lockhart in a fencer's _"en garde"_ , and Snape in a more practical casting overhead windup.

Lockhart counted aloud, "One... two... three..." and started to move his wand.

Before he could even utter a full syllable, Professor Snape's wand thrust forward as he proclaimed, " _Expelliarmus_..." and the bolt of the cast hit Lockhart squarely in the midsection, sending him flying backwards a good 2 meters, landing him quite firmly and unceremoniously flat on his back. Recovering quickly, he stood and started striding towards Snape saying, "excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind me saying... it was pretty obvious... ah what you were about to do, and if I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy."

"Perhaps it would be prudent," Professor Snape responded, in his most pedantic tones, "to first teach the students how to block unfriendly spells, Professor," and he gave a slight smile, rather like a very satisfied cat who has just snacked on an annoying canary.

"Excellent suggestion, Professor Snape. Let's have a volunteer pair..." as he looked among the students. "Erm... Weasley, Potter, how about you?"

As they began to make their way from the bleachers, Professor Snape remarked, "Weasley's wand causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending Potter to the hospital wing in a match box... Might I suggest someone from my own house?" and he paused as if considering. Then opening his hands in a wide gesture of innocent indifference continued... "Malfoy, perhaps?" He turned briskly on his heel, making an abrupt beckoning gesture for Malfoy to replace him on the Dueling Lane.

As the boys took their places, Lockhart wished Harry luck, as Malfoy taunted, "Scared, Potter?"

"You wish," was the contemptuous reply.

Few but those faculty closest, and anyone with extraordinary hearing, noted the exchange. The boys opened the duel properly, Professor Lockhart instructed them to cast charms to disarm only when they reached their places, and began to count to three.

He had only reached "Two", when Malfoy cast _"Everte Statum!"_ hitting Harry straight on, tumbling him back several feet to a painful fall.

Harry recovered quickly on his own, and came back to cast _"Rictusempra!"_ , obediently attempting to disarm Malfoy with the tickling charm. There was so much anger behind the cast, however, that it too, lifted Malfoy from his feet and spun him several times through the air before hitting the ground with force.

Professor Snape rather disgustedly hauled Malfoy to his feet and propelled him back towards the center of the lane, as Malfoy swung his wand at Harry calling out, _"Serpensorcia!"_ A large angry cobra emerged from his wand tip and began slithering off towards the assembled students.

Even before faculty could react, Harry confronted the snake, cutting off its intended route, and began hissing and articulating what seemed a random combination of sibilants. The snake reared up, focused on him, and extended his hood, prompting another expression of sounds from Harry. Ultimately, Professor Snape aimed his wand at the cobra, entoning... _"Vipera Evanesca!"_ reducing the reptile to ash.

Seeing Lockhart frozen in shock, and silent students uncertain of what was going on and whether to panic, Headmaster Dumbledore stepped in thumping his own staff reassuringly on the ground shouting, "Very good. Very good. Thank you for that demonstration, Professor... children. Now, will everyone who wants to participate please walk to where you see your Head of House?"

He watched and saw the students heeding the instruction. "Excellent, now, you will be split by class levels, years one through three on the inner lane, and years four through seven on the outer. You will notice that Slytherin house will be opposed by Gryffindore, and Hufflepuff will meet Ravenclaw. Would other faculty please come to any of the corners, and help with answering questions, demonstration, and safety. Thank you."

And so, while pandemonium tried to make itself felt, students lined up in orderly queues and watched intently as faculty first demonstrated the spells they were to learn, and then they practiced the wand motions for them, and then they got to try them out for themselves. While the students found it great fun to get to duel one another, they derived almost as much glee as they watched their professors pair off against one another. It gave them an unexpected feeling of security as they watched Snape versus McGonagall, and Flitwick versus Sprout, to realize that these were dangerous and competent wizards and witches, capable of protecting them should it ever be necessary.

Madame Hooch and Master Constantine were nearest the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw side, so assisted there. That was fine with Professor Konstantyn, who came over, almost seeming to limp a bit on his staff, to the Slytherin/Gryffindor lanes. Time passed quickly as students drilled in small groups waiting, and duels went by smoothly. Professor Konstantyn quietly moved along the lines of Gryffindor students, assisting Professor McGonagall as they modeled postures and wand motions, helped students find their balance points, and coached in pronunciation of the Latin phrases needed for the variety of spells in use by the age groups that varied from 11 to 18. More than one dire warning was given to upper division witches and wizards, when the anticipatory gleam in their eyes was recognized for the potential harm it boded.

Headmaster Dumbledore had mentioned that his Staff was capable of blocking any unauthorized or harmful spell that was cast during the exercises, and that those responsible would answer to their Head of House. A few stalwart souls considered whether the penalty would be worth the crime. At least among the Gryffindors, the consensus had been reached... No. No it was not. Professor Snape managed to communicate the same pithy message to his Slytherins, so all moved on with a surprising lack of injury.

Madame Pomfrey had encouragingly little to do, just a few sprains and bruises here and there, and a bell chimed to announce the time as 8:45, time to dismiss and head to their houses for curfew. This announcement was met with universal groans of dismay, as the Headmaster quieted the assemblage, led a round of applause for all and sundry who had worked to make this possible, and assured the students that this was a great success that would continue. Perhaps, they could even see about meeting twice a week, with a Friday evening session. They would see.

On this cheery note, all the prefects lined up their Houses and headed for the doors. Shoulder claps, handshakes, and smiles were exchanged all around, and Master Constantine had a moment to be introduced to all and be greeted.

Last to come together were Master Constantine and Professor Konstantyn. Their family resemblance was not so strong that it gave them away, but when you already knew it was there, you could see it.

"Master Constantine," the Professor began, "I am so glad Hogwarts is expanding in this way. And diversifying, too! American, I hear?" and the smile on his lips and in his voice had still never come close to touching his eyes.

"Yes, Professor. My home has been in New York City for a while now," John chatted on trivially, while they both watched to see the faculty trailing their way towards the doors to retire for the night. All said their goodnights, as did Madame Hooch... All except for the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape, who had given the men some space and privacy, but still remained inside the doors as they closed them.

 _"Here we go..." thought Master Constantine, as he heard those great oaken doors slam shut._


	11. Showdown

**Showdown**

Professor Konstantyn began speaking furiously in his native Ukrainian, as John gradually adopted that typical "at ease" position used by almost anyone enduring intense verbal castigation. Hands behind his back, eyes watching his father without challenging eye contact, stiff backed, and silent.

His opening tirade amounted to: "What is wrong with you, you daft boy! I should report you to your Division Chief for insubordination, dereliction of duty, and desertion. You're supposed to be in Romania, hunting down Stoian Petrov and his mongrels. You're NOT supposed to be here in England babysitting your superannuated FATHER!"... and he paused to draw breath.

"Permission to speak, sir," John interjected, in the same language.

"Denied! There is no EXCUSE for this Ivan! How are we supposed to protect this boy, defend this castle, if people don't do their jobs and keep to their assigned tasks? I don't know what strings you pulled to get here, or what you told these dear people, but there is no excuse for such behavior. How are we going to trap Petrov if you do not do your job!?"

Again, "permission to speak, sir," John tried.

"WHAT!? What can you possibly say? What excuse can you provide, to forgive such negligent conduct? What!?" and John could see that little artery pulsing in the side of his father's neck that always signaled his rage.

"Papa, I am not here on my own. Petrov and all his henchmen have disappeared with all trace from Romania. Indications are that he has relocated here, somewhere in the U.K. and I expect him or his to make an appearance in Hogsmeade. I have not deserted, sir. I am under orders to be here. This IS my current assignment," he managed to get the entire speech out without interruption.

His father stood utterly silent for a very long moment. His friends across the room could see the struggle within him from even there. You could have heard a pin drop as nothing and no one moved a muscle. It was like a tableau... John still standing in his "at ease" posture, looking straight ahead, Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape motionless near the door, and Professor Konstantyn recalculating a number of factors, and breathing very hard trying to regain his control.

He looked long and hard at John, "You speak truth? This is now your assignment?"

"Always, sir. I would not lie to you, ever."

Under his breath, Pavel muttered, _"I will kill Ivailo,"_ in a language not even John understood. It may have been Hittite for all he knew. But he knew what he was saying, because he knew his father, and he did manage to catch the name "Ivailo" in the curse.

"No! Just... no! You will not accept this assignment! You must go home, now! I have this side. You are not needed!" the Professor finally said, in a much calmer voice.

"Father, I cannot do that. You know that. This is my duty, my job. I am not here to protect you, I am here to protect this boy Potter... and to catch Petrov. I hold as much against him as you do. I am a grown man with a job to do. I love you, I respect you, but in this, Father... I cannot obey you. Not this time. Forgive me."

 _The observers could see that the tenor of the conversation had changed. They thought things were improving... for a moment._

Then the Professor said, in a silky low voice that somehow seemed much more frightening and angry than when he shouted... "I see. Well, my 'grown man son', I suggest we spar a bit. Let us duel." And he walked away, to one of the outer lanes, set his Staff standing upright out of the way, removed all his outer robes, until he was in shirtsleeves and trousers. Black boots climbed nearly to his knees, and Minerva reflected with a quick smile that the heels on them made him an inch or two taller - he'd always been a bit sensitive about his height.

While this was happening, John also stripped down to his white shirt and black trousers, placing his outer garments neatly on the bleachers near the others. "If you will excuse us for a bit, Father and I are planning to spar. You should probably go on, this may take a while."

McGonagall was the first to speak, with great intensity, "Absolutely NOT! You're fools, the both of you if you think duelling is an appropriate response to the danger we are ALL in right now. But if you're determined to do it, you at least need a referee, and since I know and love you both, I'm not going anywhere!" She marched out to the center lane as if daring anyone to gainsay her.

"And gentlemen, this is MY venue, I'm afraid. And I'll be staying to be sure it, and yourselves remain safe," offered Headmaster Dumbledore.

"And I'm going nowhere. Judging from your tone and expressions, you may need a healer or potions when you're finished. We can't exactly call Poppy back now, can we?" he asked, calmly removing a wide array of potions from his robes, including Dittany, Skelegrow, Pepperupper, Dreamless Sleep, Pain Potion, and a few others to prevent burns and scarring. "Between the Headmaster and myself, we can probably deal with whatever harm is done."

John and Pavel had walked back to the center dueling lane while they were speaking. John looked at Pavel, "Well, Father. This is a bit awkward and unexpected. What do we do?"

"We do what we must, Ivan," as they had both shifted back to English. "All right, my friends, if you insist on staying, I'll not stop you. You realize, Ivan and I could just 'take this outside' as you say, but I doubt that would stop you observing anyway. My son and I need to settle something about authority and autonomy. I appreciate you remaining here, and your foresight and skills Professor Snape. I hope they'll not be needed, but... Well, anyway. If you are determined to stay, then we must make a unusual request of you."

"What's that, Paul?" Minerva asked.

"We need to ask for absolute privacy and confidentiality. I actually make bold to request that you swear on your magic, that you will never disclose anything of what you are about to see, or believe you see. Also, that none of this ever be discussed with anyone, including among yourselves, or even with us."

"You're right, Pavel, that's an extremely unusual request. Ordinarily I would oppose it, but I've never known you to be trivial or frivolous, so I have to think you have good and compelling reason. For me, then, very well," and he looked at his colleagues, who also nodded though they looked a bit puzzled.

Together, they said, "I swear by my magic to disclose nothing of what I see or think I see to anyone, including ourselves, and you."

"Thank you, my friends," and Pavel smiled. "You will understand shortly. We shall confine this to English, shall we?" Pavel called to John.

"Sure thing, Pop," John dared a grin, as he watched his father flinch.

"There is a difference, John, between the English language and American slang! You may come to regret that."

"Sorry, sir," John replied in a chastened tone.

They stood face to face in the center of the dueling lane, as Dumbledore and Snape moved closer, and Minerva stepped back a couple paces. The combatants' faces took on a serious mein, as their wands shot into their hands from hidden spring-loaded sleeve holsters.

John said, "Before we begin, Father, will you foreswear your authority over me for the duration of this duel?"

"I do, for now you are just a man, you are not my son."

"Thank you, sir. So... to the blood then?"

Minerva gasped, Snape blinked, and Dumbledore closed his eyes with concern for just a moment.

"Minerva, if you are to referee, you are not to interfere," Pavel said, without taking his eyes off John. "To the blood!" he responded, as they saluted, bowed, and turned back to back.

Minerva counted their five paces, and stepped back as both whipped around like cats at a ready crouch.

Oddly, neither were in the "traditional" stance, neither "en garde" or hand over head. Both hands were forward, their right hands grasping wands as a conductor holds a baton, and their left in a ready position in front of them as if they planned to catch a ball.

Suddenly, Pavel's wand threw an arcing spark towards John, who met it with his left hand as an incandescent shield absorbed the blast. In the very next instant, John whipped his wand from the right, and a slicing blade raced down the lane towards Pavel's ankles.

Pavel stopped it with a chopping motion of his left hand downwards, and the very walls shook with the force of the collision.

Fire shot from Pavel's wand tip, and before John could answer, it disengaged and became a sinuous extension like a snake of energy lapping and licking all around John's shield.

John bounced his wand in a wavelike motion that clearly interfered with his father's balance and made him shift his feet to remain upright.

 _"Touche"_ , Pavel called. "Enough warm up, let's get on with this..."

Words cannot describe the "storm" - that's the only word for it - that began within a shielded envelope of the dueling lane.

Pavel called out, "Dumbledore, can you hold this safety shield in place for me? I don't want errant aim to cause damage or hurt."

"Certainly," the Headmaster shouted back, as light streamed from his staff to form a tunnel surrounding their duel.

"Now, young man. Let's see what you truly have..." and force shot from both his hands at an unbelievable rate. Different colors, different elements... boulders, winds, fire, even water. Over, under, from the left, diagonally... magic assaulted John at a pace seldom ever seen before.

Just as amazing, the shields John held in place, as his own wand shot weaponry of every imaginable kind at his father. Energy daggers, blades of every imagining, shuriken, lashing of fire and brimstone. The display was beyond belief.

The contest seemed at a stalemate, until...

It became difficult to see what was happening. Pavel didn't seem to be moving around a great deal, but it seemed that he let some weapons come through his shield, but was never in their path when they got there. He was... shifting. _He was phase shifting..._ unheard of.

But then came the part they could not believe. Their speed picked up. It looked as if they had been standing still before, and now... at least for Pavel... his motions were so fast their eyes could literally not follow his body. There were just light streaks where they knew he had to be... but he wasn't.

"Headmaster," Snape breathed in utter amazement, "I don't believe what I'm seeing. It's impossible, isn't it? In something like a duel? Is he really?..."

"Yes, Severus, Pavel is manipulating Time itself. I've never seen this done with such control. What he is doing with Time is only dangerous to him, because he has it utterly contained within my shield. But if he miscalculates where to place himself, this is deadly."

The effect stopped for a moment, as Pavel became normally visible again. During his blurred states, he was able to score a number of hits on John, who was now panting a bit, from both exertion and even some pain.

"Guard yourself properly, boy! You know how to stop this. Use your abilities!" Pavel called out, continuing to rain energy and spells at his winded son.

"No, sir... I'll not do that. I shall fight as a man, and only a man!"

"You dare defy me?!" Petrov roared.

"No, sir. But you've laid down your authority right now. I am under the authority of my division to do this job. Honor will allow me no less than to fulfill it. Honor, and duty!"

"Foolish boy! You think Petrov cares about your preferences, your honor, your duty? You think his mongrels care? Don't you think they will take EVERY advantage of you in a fight? You MUST use all of your abilities! Will you DIE over an element of STYLE? I raised you better!"

"Nonetheless, sir..."

"Very well, let us end this..." and amazing as it seemed, Pavel seemed to have an additional, unused gear available. Suddenly his wand took on an eerie glow along its entire length, as he simply stood completely still, closed his eyes, and ever so slowly closed this left hand.

Something seemed to grasp John and close in around him. His own spells seemed focused down a tunnel that constricted ever smaller and tighter. Soon, everything he cast just passed harmlessly past Pavel's left side.

And with one final swiping slash of his wand from right to left, a horrendous whipcrack sound burst forth, John's back arched as a scream was torn from his lips, and he collapsed on his knees to the floor.

No one in that room could mistake what had just been done.

Pavel put away his wand, and spent a moment with his eyes closed just to catch his breath, perhaps even praying.

Sadly, he looked at Minerva saying, "the Duel is ended." He looked at Dumbledore saying, "you can release the shield, thank you, sir." And finally he turned to Professor Snape saying, "please bring Dittany and your potions, my friend. I have drawn first blood."


	12. Bloodlines

**Bloodlines**

As Professor Snape walked towards the center of the arena, he summoned a chair from the side wall and transfigured it into a table to use as he treated John's back.

Pavel glanced at the back of John's shirt to observing the length of red welt and bloody furrow that had been lashed through the skin and into top of the muscle layer. He walked over to John, saying I'm going to help you up now, we'll go get that treated.

"I can get it, Papa," John objected.

"I know you _can_ , but it will hurt less with help. Don't argue," Pavel said gently, as he actually levitated John up and used a FeatherLight charm to bring him to the medicine tables, so that he'd not even have to walk or balance. A quick wave of his wand, and two more side chairs transformed into what seemed a bit like "cobbler's benches", a seat you straddle, but had what should be the "back" reclined a bit. John muttered his thanks, as he straddled the chair backwards, and leaned his chest against the support, to let the healers work.

As he sat, all could see the brilliant red stripe of blood and gash in the back of John's shirt.

"Just one more moment, friends," Pavel said, as his wand banished the back of John's shirt and all lips tightened as they beheld John's well muscled back so disfigured by the injury. "I'm afraid I must ask you to extend our privacy agreement just a bit longer, though the duel has finished. And dear Professor McGonagall, I apologize for violating the conventions of modesty here in your presence."

"Don't be daft, ye numpty! That's the least of our concerns right noo," she snapped, so irritated at him her brogue thickened.

"John, I'm going to help you heal. That will take days otherwise, and neither of us can afford that," refusing to be distracted by Minerva's name calling, even though the last time he'd heard the word "numpty" was from his wife.

"No, Papa. I can handle this, and there's no need..."

"John, it's late and we're all tired. We are keeping these fine people from their beds and there are classes tomorrow. Is our duel well and truly finished?"

"Yes, you certainly won."

"Fine, then am I again your father and you my son?"

John groaned as he saw where this was going, "Yes, sir. You are, and I am."

"Fine, then hear me. I am going to help you heal, and you will accept it without resistance, is that clear?"

"I don't want that, Father."

"I don't remember asking that. I asked if I was clear. Now, you have a choice between obedience and defiance. That's your only choice, so which will it be?"

John actually laughed, "Well, would there be consequences to defiance?"

At which Pavel laughed as well, and looked up at the longsuffering and quite confused friends waiting on this discussion. "John, we are confusing these fine people, but if you insist... Yes, John, there will be the same consequences to defiance right here, right now, that there have been your entire life."

"Very well, Father, since Madame Hooch is determined to test my aerial skills tomorrow, I'd rather be able to sit a broom comfortably." John looked at their observers, "but they won't like seeing you do this either," John acceded. "Besides," he tried to mutter in an extremely low voice, as his father banished the back of his own shirt with his wand, "Even if I defied you, I can't believe you'd dare right here in front of everybody."

"Do I detect a challenge there, son?" Pavel quipped, as he straddled and sat on the other chair.

"Oh, God, no, Dad. No challenge, no sir," John laughed, in surrender. "Let's just get on with this!"

"Very well." He turned to the professors to ask, "You've looked at the wound, yes?"

Both Dumbledore and Snape, nodded, preparing to began incantations when they put dittany on the wound.

Professor Snape addressed John, "this is a deep gash, young man. Muscles are torn, though I don't think it got to your spine, and no organs are affected. Magically inflicted, this is not going to heal quickly,"

Pavel cleared his throat a moment, saying, "Well, yes, that would normally be so. But John has a talent for healing, as do I, and I am going to help him with this. Have you dittany enough there for two?"

"Yes," Snape answered, a bit confused. _"Why would help healing require double dosing dittany?" he thought, but decided to say nothing._

"Fine, here we go. John, be ready..." and Pavel took a mouthpiece, like an athletic tooth guard, out of his pocket and bit on it - just as he did when dueling, as he took his son's hand and they both closed their eyes. Their backs began to glow as a hum began... the frequency of the hum and intensity of the light increased with every passing second, though the sound got no louder.

Before their eyes, the three observers watched as the gash on John's back seemed to be healing and growing shallower, and a corresponding red line drew itself across Pavel's back shoulder to lower ribs, just like John's. Suddenly there was the sickening sound of flesh splitting, as Pavel's body arched in a paroxysm of pain, a muffled scream escaped him, and his face registered intense pain. At the same time, you saw some of the pain lines recede from John's face. And gradually all grew quiet and the light faded away.

After a moment just to breathe, Pavel removed his mouthpiece and put it back in his pocket to say, "Now, if you please, lady and gentlemen, your attentions will be most welcome. And by the way... _Oww! Dammit!"_

"Language, Papa!" John laughed.

"How you can manage to joke with this on your back I'll never know. Your youth, I guess. I'm just going to lean here for a moment or two until our healers get done... then we'll finish up, eh?"

"We're confusing them again, Papa." John observed.

"To say 'them' is rude, John. You know better..."

"Sorry, professors. Bad manners. We'll explain when we finish... I think. Won't we, Papa?"

"I'm afraid so, son. _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ they say. We may as well adopt them as family anyway. We're already two-thirds there, and I feel a very fraternal attraction to our foresighted Professor Snape. Please tell us when you complete your ministrations, friends. We'll just rest until you do."

And with that last confusing sentiment, potion was first poured into the wounds, bringing its tension of acute discomfort across their backs, then ointment was applied, easing the tension somewhat, then incantations were muttered and hummed to speed the healing process. The wounds had required no cleaning, as there had been no contaminants near them.

"That's the best we can do for now. It's still going to take a couple..." Snape got that far, when John sat up straight, templed his fingers in an unusual configuration, and began to hum quietly to himself.

Pavel, on the other hand, had the presence of mind to sit up and thank them for their work first, then say, "You must excuse me for just a moment, as well," and also closed his eyes, folding his hands in his lap and bowing his head as if praying, he uttered no sound at all.

As if the threesome standing by could be any more amazed in this night of surprises, they watched both wounds begin to disappear. Like an eraser removing a heavy pencil smudge, the shallow ends of discoloration disappeared first, then the muscles knit together from underneath, then the subdermal layers reformed, and finally the outer skin, healing from the ends to the middle as if zipped up. When all the skin was healed, they yet maintained their meditative poses for a couple minutes.

Severus packed up his medicinal supplies as Albus patiently waited and apparently Minerva simply fumed. She'd been angry from the start, but there were tears in her eyes when she saw the boy's wound. She'd been confused at their conversation before the healing, but Severus had known her well enough for enough years that he knew the light-hearted banter between father and son had taken her right over the edge of her temper. Courtesy told Snape he should discretely leave, but curiosity and the awareness that this was going to be far too fun to miss, convinced him to stay.

Severus beckoned Albus to follow him as they made their way to the bleachers to wait, while Minerva didn't move from her spot, anxiously watching over them, glowering from time to time.

Pavel opened his eyes and looked up at her concerned expression and smiled, as he transfigured both of their shirts into wholeness again. "Ah, Minerva," he began, then seeing Snape and Dumbledore a few meters away, "and gentlemen. Thank you so much for waiting with us, and your expert ministrations," this last he said wheeling his shoulders and finding no tightness or discomfort at all. "You've really done a fantastic job, and all is now fine!"

That did it!

"Fine? _Fine_!? How in the world is 'all now fine'? What is _wrong_ with you two?..." noticing John's eyes had opened up as well, and he now stared at her... "Aye, the _BOTH_ of you! _THAT_ behavior is simply _NOT_ acceptable at Hogwarts, and I don't give a hoot that you're faculty! That means you're supposed to know _BETTER_ than the students, and if this is anything to go by...

The two men on the receiving end of this harangue had silently risen, transfigured their benches back to chairs, levitated them to the walls, and now stood silent and still knowing exactly how to meet the present moment. "At ease" was the posture, _"yes, ma'am", "no, ma'am,"_ and _"no excuse, ma'am"_ the acceptable responses.

"I've half a mind to take a birch limb to the BOTH of ye!" she ranted on, barely coming up for air. "And YOU, Pavel... what do you mean by turning that kind of power loose in this school! And against your son!? Are you completely daft? I swear..." and she actually wagged her finger at them - as Albus and Severus, standing safely out of range, turned to one another with upraised eyebrows trying with all their might not to laugh..."if you were in Gryffindor House neither of you would see your way past detention for a month, and if Iryna were here, she's have at you BOTH with a wooden spoon!"

A thousand responses leapt to Pavel's tongue, reasonable replies to her questions and objections, like that all the power was safely contained, or he and John dueled frequently, or they knew their healing capacities, or that it was deadly important that they practice... or at least John do so... as frequently as he had to fight enemies to the death. But as he looked at Minerva's flushed and furious countenance, all he could see was her concern for them. And Iryna had taught him well exactly what to say at the end of a lecture like this.

She finished this tirade with a traditional... "So what do you have to say for yourselves, eh?" as she crossed her arms, and leaned back in the highest dudgeon.

Pavel and John looked at one another with chastened, almost bashful, expressions. They knew far better than to smile or laugh.

Finally Pavel said, "Only this," as he stepped forward grasping Minerva's shoulders and gently kissed her on both cheeks, then stepping back, continued, "we are very sorry we upset you and perhaps even violated the decorum of the school. I was angry, I wasn't thinking. To have you here through all that, especially not knowing what was going to happen or our natures, was inexcusable and rude. Please forgive me... please forgive us both. I will never put you in this situation again."

Minerva was a bit surprised, as she expected argument. That's not to say she was completely mollified yet, but the eloquent apology had taken her a long way towards it.

"And as for YOU, ye daft boy," she said, stepping out in front of John, "give me your hand."

John blinked, and stood there a moment, a bit confused... "Pardon? Ma'am?"

"I said 'give me yer hand'. Did I stutter? Did that duel affect your hearing as well as your back? Are ye noo deef along with daft? _Give... me... your... hand!_ "

"Yes ma'am," and utterly confused, John offered her his right hand as if for a handshake.

Minerva took it firmly in her left, turned and held it palm-side down, and with her right gave it a very firm and stinging swat, with just the slightest magical hex enhancement. "You've earned at least _that_ , m'lad."

At which both Pavel and John started laughing wholeheartedly, as John swept Minerva into his arms for a hug and said, "Thank you, and I'm truly sorry we upset you, Auntie." - as he'd known her in his youth.

She returned his hug, half laughing and crying at the same time herself. "All right then... Be careful with that 'Auntie' thing, or I might forget how old you are. I tell you truly," that finger wagged again, "if you were the size you were the last time you called me that, you'd be over my knee right noo faster than you could say _'Godrick Gryffindor'_."

"Yes, ma'am, I'll try and do better."

"Well," she sniffed to restore her dignity, "mind that ye do... the _BOTH_ of you!" and as she spun on her heel marching briskly towards the doors, she spotted Albus and Severus inconspicuously playing "fly on the wall" at the bleachers. "And what are YOU two doing just standing around? I think we've been promised some explanations, and the two of _them_ need to replace some fluids. Come along noo ta the Senior Common Room and we'll all get some tea or a nightcap, or _both._ Laird knows we've _aearned_ it!" as she bustled off out the door and down the hall, leaving four of the most powerful men in the world blinking and staring in her wake.

They looked at one another and laughed, John meekly answering,"Yes, ma'am, we're coming." as they gathered up their belongings and followed her lead.

"There's a reason she's Deputy Headmistress here, you know," Albus observed quietly with a chuckle.

"Quite," Severus seconded, keeping his voice quite low, and all nodded their heads in agreement.


	13. Dark Secrets

**Dark Secrets**

 _It was 10:00 on a dark and stormy night as thunder and lightning crashed merrily over Hogwarts and Hogsmeade._

Students had been sent to bed, though older students weren't yet subject to "lights out". There was far too much conversation still going on even in the younger student's dorms, as excitement about dueling and spellcasting still ran high. Eventually, enough energy ran down that they began dropping off by one's and two's.

"That's gonna be _brilliant_ , that is!" Ron mused, as he and Harry lay in beds.

"Absolutely!" Harry agreed, as he imagined dozens of ways he anticipated getting his own back against Malfoy.

"Hey, what was that with you and the snake back there, anyway? What was going on?" Ron rose up on an elbow to ask.

"What do you mean? You heard what I said. I told it to leave the students alone and stay in the lane!"

"Oh, that's what you said..."

"You _heard_ me! If I hadn't told it to stop..."

"We only heard you talking Parseltongue... You know... Snake language?"

"I spoke another language?" he considered for a moment. "Well what of it? I'm sure loads of folks can do it."

"No, Harry. It's not a very common gift, and Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth. Now everyone's going to think your the Heir of Slytherin!" referring to some disturbing graffiti that appeared on a wall, and a petrified Mrs. Norris that infuriated Mr. Filch to near madness.

"The Headmaster knows I didn't do that, he said so!"

"Well, that's good at least. Now there's just the rest of the school to worry about!" Ron sighed, dropping his head back to his pillow.

"Thanks, mate. That makes me feel loads better! Now let's get some sleep," and Harry took his glasses off and rolled over as he thought to himself, _"that History Professor looks and talks like he really knows how to handle a wand. I want to see if I can get some more training from him. I'll bet he'd beat hell out of Lockhart in a duel." He smiled as he drifted off imagining such a duel. He had no idea..._

* * *

At the Pub of the Three Broomsticks, Dan and Jason Pendleton, as they were known, were sitting quietly in a corner booth having bought a round or two for the assemblage by way of getting acquainted. Typical of village life, newcomers after dark tended to attract a bit of attention, even at such a waystation stop as Hogsmeade.

Dan and Jason were "visiting wizards from New Zealand by way of the United States, on holiday in the U.K. visiting parents and family". They were doing a "walkabout" more or less, visiting far flung relatives and places of interest in their family history. As they said their parents had both attended Hogwarts, and had fond memories of their years there, they had booked rooms here at the Inn for two weeks saying they planned to go traveling a bit, and camp for a few days in the public lands near the Black Lake and loch. They'd even brought fishing gear, and asked if there were fish in the river that fed the loch.

In no time at all, the locals thought they'd taken the measure of these "tourists" and deemed them harmless and mildly amusing. Some of the young ladies cast interested glances their way, wondering if they required any "company" for the evening. They returned bland innocent smiles in return, seeming oblivious to any further nuances of the non-verbal communication. John's two best operatives had successfully implanted themselves in Hogmeade's consciousness and mild night life, as they tried to plan without data and wondered how their boss was doing.

They knew the Professor well. He had been their Director of Training when they joined the Auror's directorate. They knew well the relationship between the two Konstantyn's, and how the Professor would respond to John's appearance. The travelers raised their mugs of beer in a toast to John as they sat there that evening, hoping that he had survived their "family reunion" at Hogwarts. With ironic smiles they realized, they were only half jesting.

* * *

As expected, the Senior Common Room was devoid of faculty as the four of them entered. Both John and Pavel had replaced their clothing as they'd walked from the Gymnasium, and no one observing their entrance would have had the slightest clue of anything untoward. They gravitated to the roaring fireplace and scattered into the well worn seats that seemed more to embrace them than simply support them.

The aroma of old leather, burning logs, warm spiced tea, and generations of learning wafted from the very walls of this room. Portraits of noted scholars and esteemed teachers greeted them from the walls, as Minerva made her way to the sideboard, collecting tumblers, teacups, saucers, and flatwear on a silver tray and brought it over as she tinged one of the goblets with her wand to call for an house elf.

The elf named "Muffin" rapidly answered her summons with a polite, "Yes, Mistress McGonagall, how may I help?"

She smiled more warmly at Muffin than any of them had seen her smile in more than an hour. "Muffin, would you send us some fruit juice, herbal tea, lemon, sugar, firewhiskey, scotch, and vodka, please. Perhaps some sandwiches?"

"Certainly, Mistress, right away," and if he were the least bit surprised by the requests, he didn't show it, as he popped away. Moments later, all the victuals appeared on a tray on the coffee table before them, and Minerva began serving. First she poured pint tumblers from the apple juice jug and handed them to Pavel and John with a glare as if daring them to object. They did not, but politely chose to sip from them in compliant silence. Satisfied, she turned to Albus and Severus inquiringly, "tea, or something a bit more bracing?"

"Tea I think for the moment, Minerva. I want my head quite clear for whatever discussion we're about to have. Perhaps later," Albus smiled as he reached for the teacup she was already handing him, and glanced towards the Scotch for later.

"For me as well, thank you..." was all Severus said.

"All right. As for me, I think I need this," as she poured two fingers of Scotch into her glass and sat back saying, "Gentlemen, what do you have to tell us?"

Paul spoke, continuing to drink his juice, knowing that Minerva was right about their need for fluids. He glanced over to notice approvingly that John was nearly finished with his as well.

"First, let me ask... How familiar are you with the culture of magic in Eastern Europe. Especially what had been known as the 'satellite states'... Romania, Lithuania, Bulgaria, Czechoslovakia, Estonia, Latvia, and the Ukraine?"

No one answered, as they pondered the question. Everyone had " _heard_ " things, of course. But lacking much in personal experience, it was hard to respond without making some silly generalization, or verging on the impolite. Pavel did not relieve the tension or fill the void of silence. He simply waited patiently, finished his juice, and poured some tea for himself, squeezing a lemon wedge into the cup.

Albus finally responded with, "we don't know very much, Pavel. There are always rumors, of course, and a number of convocations have pointed out a number of dark wizards that have originated there. I know that when we were first acquainted, you were involved with trying to keep Voldemort from forming some powerful and dangerous alliances with clans there. But that's about all I know, anyway."

Pavel nodded, as Albus covered much of the relevant information. "Good, that is all true. Severus, my friend, I think you can add a bit to the discussion, can you not?"

Snape nodded, but still did not speak for a long while. "I think, in the present circumstances, it is impossible for me to comment further."

"I understand," Pavel nodded. "One moment, please..." as he drew his wand, cast a muffling charm on their end of the room, and a charm at the door and into the fireplace. "Now, if anyone should walk near or into the doorway, the fire will flare a bright yellow and we will know.

"Friends, we are now allied to try to stop the two most dangerous criminal wizards known to the magical world. We may or may not be successful, and our lives, as well as the Potter boy's, rides on our efforts. We cannot afford to let our secrets hinder us. John and I are prepared to disclose information to you that could mean our death if it got out. We are also already aware of much you do not believe we should know. Our agencies are very efficient. Severus, I already know your nature and your role, and the deadly risks you run every day. I cannot express my admiration for your courage and dedication.

"But the time has now come that there be no secrets among us. If you are willing, I will release your earlier oath, that you may discuss anything you choose among ourselves, and I ask you to trust us with whatever information aids us in this endeavor without hesitation. John and I are willing to make Unbreakable Vows, and bind our lives, never to reveal your secrets... if that provides assurance for you."

At which Pavel turned to John, who picked up the discussion assenting with, "Yes, friends. We may have just met, Severus. But I've known Uncle Albus and Aunt Minerva all my life. I have no hesitation in trusting you, and I keep secrets that would defy belief on a daily basis. I agree, wholeheartedly."

Since it was Snape's secrets that were at issue here, he took it upon himself to respond. "The Vow won't be necessary. I rely on my own judgments a depressing amount of the time, to judge who can be trusted and who cannot. You realize how limited my 'trust' list is?" and he barked a mirthless chuckle. No one smiled, they understood. "So, if it's all right by my colleagues here, I'm perfectly willing to consider you as much Order members as they are."

Pavel was very moved as he simply said, "Thank you, Severus. Albus? Minerva?" and they just nodded their agreement. Vow?"

They shook their heads as Albus spoke for them, "We need no more assurance than your word, Pavel. That's always been good enough for me."

Pavel entoned solemnly, "Albus, Minerva, and Severus, I give you my solemn word of honor never to disclose any secret you share with me, even at the cost of my life or those I love."

John then said the same, and as he finished, a huge echoing crash of thunder pealed, and somehow all knew that "Magic" and/or Hogwarts herself, stood witness to the oath.

"Well now," Pavel said more brightly, "this should move along much more smoothly. What is it you were going to add, Severus?"

"Simply that while we know of many of the U.K. Deatheaters in the Dark Lord's service, there are many more who never speak or remove their masks. They have tattoos, and some have branding scars. We know they are from regions you speak of, and we know there is a great deal of active Dark Magic there..." he continued in a lowered respectful tone, "gentlemen, I don't know how much you know of me, but what I know of you is breathtaking. I cannot begin to imagine what it is to be an auror in an environment like yours."

"Thank you, Severus," John answered. "I appreciate that. It is hard to imagine, and so few have any clue what it takes to protect the public in such a place," and he gave Severus a smile. "But, we were well trained for the task. Our old director was a tyrannical taskmaster."

Pavel ignored him and the backhanded insult as he finished his tea and carried on the lecture. "Ahem, moving on, the 'rumors' you refer to, and the high numbers of deatheaters from the region, they are all well founded. There is much that is dark of the magic that evolved in and around the black mountain forests throughout the region. People and clans, villages and waystations, are often secluded and lonely. Communities do not develop as in agrarian regions, and power struggles are not so much social as personal.

"I struggle for words as to this next part... You are aware that there are other expressions of supernatural life than simply human witches and wizards, I know. But just as werewolves evolved in that region, so too did some others. One of the more well known... " his voice drifted off, as he looked at John.

His son, on the other hand, was watching his father with a smile on his face, almost enjoying his discomfiture. Finally, in a moment of unaccustomed mercy, he interrupted, "Dad, would you like me to take it from here?"

"Would you, son? That would be kind," Pavel said, as the three professors looked on, a bit shocked to find Pavel at a loss for words.

"Let me put this another way. What do you know, truly know, about vampires?"

The blood seemed to drain from Minerva's face as she gasped, "Paul! You're not seriously telling us... You don't mean... I mean, seriously?"

Pavel picked up the thread of conversation again, "Yes, and no, Minerva. No, John and I are not vampires, in the traditional way you mean that. No. We do not drink blood, or burn to death in sunlight, or sleep in coffins of Ukrainian soil. Most of that is Hollywood nonsense anyway.

"BUT, for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, vampires who feed on the living and can convert them to the undead, have indeed lived in the Caucasus and surrounding areas. They are, you may know, sterile and can only reproduce through converting mortals. However, a few hundred years ago, some vampires met and fell in love with mortal witches and wizards. Depending on how deep their love and commitment, the magical side of things, especially for magicians of the life arcanum, were able to bear children.

Over time, there has developed this third group, this "in between" group, that possess many of the family traits of the vampire, such as..." he cleared his throat, almost embarrassed, "somatic regeneration, celerity, and a few other things... facility with animorphasis and such... and magic as it is taught here at Hogwarts. True, full Vampires MUST survive by tapping the lives of others. Not all those of vampiric descent must do so. I, for one, do not do so.

"What you saw me do this evening, was all done with the arcana of magic as you know it. I admit, though you need not be told this now, that I am a Mage. Yes. I have specialized in the arcana of Forces, Time, and Fate. You saw some of that as well.

"John, on the other hand, at my urging opted for a more vampiric path when he reached his majority. Each of us have the choice when we finish our schooling, whether to chose a path of magery or vampirism. Because of the work he was determined to do, and the dangers I knew he would face, I persuaded John to take the vampire's path, although never going all the way into full immortal conversion. John is what some traditions call a "ghoul", having been fed by a full Vampire, and capable of drawing life force from other creatures to exercise a number of the vampire's abilities. So John is a wizard, with some vampiric traits, but he will never be able to become a Mage.

"There," Paul said, taking a deep breath as though he had just completed a demanding task. "Now you know. The information is dangerous because there are those within both the communities of magic and of vampires that consider us dangerous and unaccountable, and seek us out to kill us."

"Minerva, I think you can pour me a drink... Vodka, if you don't mind. Now... I think I need it."

A long silence followed, as all just stared into the fire, alone with their thoughts for the moment.

"Paul, did Iryna know?" Minerva asked quietly.

"Yes. Yes she did," he smiled as he thought back. "I told her of these things before we were married. It only seemed fair. It didn't faze her in the least. She told me, more than once, it was one of my more attractive features..."

At which John pulled a face and made a very quiet sound somewhat like retching.

"You, young man, can quit that anytime," she looked around confirming the room was completely empty but for the four of them. "Once more like that, and I'll stand you in that corner right there myself," she pointed at the end of the fireplace wall, "and you can stand there for 10 minutes." His face cleared instantly, and she asked, "Noo, what would you like to drink?" as he opted for scotch, neat.

"You'll have to pardon him, Minerva. He's always been astonishingly Victorian about his mother and me. He'd go running from the kitchen if we so much as hugged, and we theorized he must believe he was hatched from an egg somehow."

 _"Daaadd... please..."_ John blushed slightly, as everyone laughed and the mood of the moment brightened considerably.

"Well, as this is an historic moment, though not for public consumption..." Albus began, reaching for the Scotch bottle on his own, pouring a healthy dose, and toasting them in salute... "Allow me to welcome you and John to our faculty as the first representatives of the vampire persuasion. We pride ourselves on our diversity."

"That is refreshing, Headmaster," John replied. "We would not have been surprised had you ruled us unfit to interact with your students."

"Nonsense! Allow me to borrow a phrase from our beloved Deputy Headmistress... _'don't be daft'._.. As long as you conduct yourselves and your magic in a lawful and positive manner, your background or lineage mean absolutely nothing here."

"Thank you, again, Albus. That is so good to hear. I have 'issues' with pejoratives that address one's heritage. Students often discover that to their peril," Pavel responded.

"Good, I'm glad that's settled," Albus said. "So, what are our plans for this week? And do you think we should disclose your relationship to the school or not? It may be untenable not to, given the circumstances."

"I agree, Headmaster," John answered. "We'll be taxed enough trying to cover all we have set out for ourselves, without having to act like strangers. Too much talent here, and we'll be too immersed in the school, for talented youngsters not to suss out that he's my father. Besides," he chuckled, "I'm not that ashamed of him."

"That's two, John," Pavel smiled, as he continued, "I agree also, Headmaster. It would be a great relief not to try to conceal our relationship. We need not make it a public announcement, just let things evolve naturally, and it won't take long to be common knowledge."

Albus nodded in agreement.

"As to plans this week," John went on, "Madame Hooch and I were going to begin with advanced broom skills by starting quidditch drills for students not involved in their house teams. It will help teach balance and coordination while riding, and give them a healthy outlet for exercise and excess energy. Father, would you consider helping, as an 'additional coach'? Madame Hooch has asked about your quidditch skills, and it would let you get out and patrol the grounds a bit more as well."

"I would love to, John. Have you already discussed this with Madame Hooch?" Pavel looked delighted.

"Yes, and she's all for it. The more the merrier, she says."

Among them they discussed schedules, the layout of the Castle and grounds, and the arrival of John's team members now inserted in Hogsmeade. Time passed companionably, though Severus had not participated in the discussions.

Severus, having said nothing up to now, opted for a short glass of Firewhiskey as he cleared his throat. "I am curious about something," he said, "and I take it we are now at liberty to discuss the duel, are we not?"

John and Pavel both nodded.

"I have been wondering, and I don't mean to touch a nerve here, but... what was it that so angered you at the end of the duel? What was it you were wanting John to do that he refused, that made you so angry? Clearly, there was an ability involved that he had, but was refusing to exercise."

"Yes, Professor," John answered, looking down into his glass, and falling back into a more formal mode of address. "Father was using his ability to dilate time on his end of the duel, trying to force me to exercise an ability called ' _celerity_ '. It is a vampiric ability to accelerate at a tremendous rate. It enables me to move, indeed, faster than the eye can follow, and even accelerate upwards faster than gravity... like running up the side of a building. I can simply move faster than the grip of 32 feet per second per second. The force with which gravity can pull me 'down' becomes vastly less than the force I can exert simply 'running up'."

"That sounds like a marvelous tool, invaluable in a duel," Snape's brows knit together in a look of confusion. "Why would you refuse?"

John took a deep breath, "Because, sir, that expends a great deal of energy, vampiric force, that would have to be replaced. I chose to fight as a purely mortal man, so that I did not have to replace any vampiric energy. Some systems call it _'vitae', 'life force'_. That is why there are Vampires who indeed, drink the blood of the living. But there are other ways of acquiring life force... non violent means... especially for a wizard. I am able to absorb vitae from others by will. But it weakens them, makes them tired or uncoordinated, until they rest, eat, and replenish themselves.

"I do not hesitate to feed at will when I am patrolling dark alleys or working among dark servants and magicians. I seldom use my abilities unless in a dangerous situation. But I _would_ not, and _WILL_ not," as he flashed a defiant look at his father, "use those abilities or fill those reserves here, surrounded by you wonderful people and these children."

They all followed his gaze, as Minerva asked, accusingly... "Pavel?"

" _Of course_ , he was not to feed from any of you or anyone here. I would have had him feed from me afterwards, as I can replenish with no more than a good meal and a night's sleep. The boy is headstrong, he was disobedient, in those moments he was not my son, and he met the consequences for his foolishness," Pavel said, his voice quietly again taking on that hard paternal edge they'd heard from time to time.

Minerva's dour expression of disapproval returned as Pavel and John glared at one another. Turning to her, seeing her furious stare, the two of them suddenly burst out laughing.

"We will sort this out, Minerva, no fear. I promise, we'll work this out before developments arise." Pavel tried to assure her.

"You'd darned well better. I'll not see..."

"Madame, clearly you have not yet forgiven us for our behavior earlier. We should not, none of us, retire to our beds angry at one another, and you are clearly angry at me. Very well, then..." and he turned towards the fireplace for a moment and quietly said, _"Accio Flagellum"_. Moments later, the little lash that he kept in his wardrobe had found its way through the nooks, crannies, and floos of Hogwarts, to fly into his hand. He took it, and calmly laid it down on the table in front of Minerva.

John laughed to see it, "Father! Don't tell me you actually brought that _here_!"

"Absolutely," Pavel replied in mock astonishment. "I bring this anywhere I teach."

"I haven't seen that thing since training..."

Albus, Severus, and Minerva simply looked at it, a bit confused or slightly disturbed.

"Don't tell me you actually _USE_ that thing, do you?" Minerva asked in some shock.

"Indeed," Pavel laughed. "I use it for 'motivation' and periodic 'attitude adjustment'."

"I can imagine it's very effective," Snape chuckled.

"It is indeed. In fact, a lad from your house met it only a few days ago," Pavel smiled.

"That's good," Severus commented, sipping his Firewhiskey with what appeared no concern at all.

Albus said nothing, knowing Pavel was a master of presentation and intimidation. He had a feeling where this was going, so remained silent.

Minerva, on the other hand, had no such reservations. "Paul, only the Headmaster or a Head of House are authorized to strike a student, and even then it's likely to be a vanishingly rare occurrence."

"Who said anything about 'striking' a student. No, my dear Professor McGonagall. I find no need for a student to _feel_ this lash. I've found it more than sufficient that they simply _hear_ it. One swipe of this on my desktop has seemed more than adequate to focus a student's attention on improved deportment instantly, and with lasting effect," he smiled, as he sipped his drink.

"I see," she answered relieved. "So why have you brought it here right now?"

"Because, dear lady," he said, standing up and handing her the rod, "you are still angry with me. You've not yet forgiven me for the events of this night, or for keeping from you my true nature, or even, right now, for my disapproval of my son's decisions. Therefore..." he said, extending both hands towards her with their palms up, "if you wish to use that, I submit to your judgment."

She stood as well, weighing the flagellum in her hands. Paul had the most irritating facility for reading her like a book, and disarming her with unexpected humility and submissiveness. She knew, absolutely and without remainder, that if she took this as a ferrule and rapped it across his palms viciously, he would do no more than grunt at the stroke, apologize and thank her. He could be so aggravating at times.

"Put your hands down." and he obeyed, but remained standing. "But, Paul? And this goes for you, too, John," at which John rose and faced her, as she used its handle as a pointer to punctuate her words. "I am going to consider the TWO of you _'on probation'_ for now." She handed the rod back to Pavel, saying, "I'm returning this to you to be put properly away. BUT, I promise you, if _either_ of you _EVER_ do anything as foolish as that duel in front of me again, I'm going to ask for this back and use it without hesitation. It'll not be your hands I swat, but I can guarantee ye'll not be willing to play any quidditch for a fortnight at least! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," John nodded.

"Crystal clear, dear lady," Pavel smiled. "Forgiven then?"

"For now, you scoundrel. For now." Minerva laughed. Looking around, she saw all had finished their refreshments, so she banished their mess to the kitchens to be put away.

"Good night, my new family," John said, as he gave a slight bow. "Auntie..." who he kissed on the cheek. "Uncle..." as he shook hands with Albus. "Severus..." as he bowed and waited, and saw Snape, with ever so slight a smile, bow as well then extend his hand to shake.

On that note, they all exchanged their goodnights, and headed off to bed.

As Snape filed out, alongside John and Pavel, he muttered, "So much for 'bat of the dungeons'."

"Pardon?" asked John.

"That's what they call me, you know... the students... either _'greasy git', or 'bat of the dungeons'_. I guess I'll have to yield you that particular title now."

John and Pavel laughed, as Pavel said, "You don't want to know what my students have called me across the years. But by all means, keep your title. Still, now at least you belong to a proper family!"

"Indeed," John said. "I knew there was something I liked about you, Severus. You're my kind of people."

And they all laughed. It seemed strange, but vaguely warm and nice, as Severus began to sense that he may actually have made some... _friends_.


	14. Knockturn Alley

**Knockturn Alley**

When one is pulling out brochures for a holiday in England, accommodations in Knockturn Alley are not likely to smile up at you from a glossy folio. No one in their right mind would ever want to find a hotel or boarding house in Knockturn Alley. Which is precisely why such a thing was just perfect for Stoian Petrov and his six accomplices.

Their "rooms", were comprised of the teetering third floor of what had once been a private residence over _Borgin and Burkes_ , an emporium specializing in objects with curious and strong magical properties. Arrangements had been made through some of Voldemort's contacts so that Deatheater appointments could be made with a minimum of observation.

Stoian Petrov was actually considered a "good looking man" by most who saw him and lived to tell the tale. A glamour was so infused into his skin, that people would see him, have that thought, and then forget having seen him almost as quickly. He was "that guy"... that guy about average height, average weight, middle aged or maybe a little younger, brown hair, undetermined eye color, and no accent. Stoian found it very convenient to be mistaken for 85% of the males on the planet. Since the glamour worked on the perception of the viewer, it made no difference what part of the world he was in, even in Asia, he just looked "like every other guy".

It was not common knowledge, but even _Borgin and Burkes_ had a recessed sitting area where one could brew a pot of tea. No one dared eat any solid confections, but at least some of the tea was safe and acceptable.

Lucius Malfoy entered from the floo, not to be seen by any from the street, and walked over to sit in a dusty web-strewn armchair alongside Stoian Petrov. Petrov continued to stir his tea without even deigning to look up.

"Do you have information for me?" he said, as Lucius looked around him at the furniture as if it were contaminated with slime, finally settling on a limited _"Scourgify"_ spell to clean a space to sit and put his belongings down on a small table between them.

"I do, along with a downpayment on your contract commitment," Lucius replied, settling himself and pouring a cup of tea. "What do you have to report for our Dark Lord?" So saying, he set a small velvet drawstring bag down on the table between them. "50,000 gold galleons, reduced in size for portability."

"I do not 'report' to lackeys," Petrov said in a surprisingly soft, but still quite menacing voice. "You may tell _your_ Dark Lord, not _mine_ , nor ' _ours_ ', that progress has been made towards our goal. I am still gathering information and exploring means of access. Now what have you got to report on your progress?"

Lucian narrated the planting of Tom Riddle's Cursed Journal in Ginny Weasley's cauldron during their school shopping, along with the gratifying mayhem that had thus far resulted from the graffiti threats regarding the Heir of Slytherin and enemies of the Heir. There was a rising sense of panic among parents of Hogwarts students as it seemed school security was insufficient to assure the safety of their precious little tykes.

Petrov snorted in disgust, "Ah, and this strikes you as helpful, eh? To put Hogwarts on high alert and heightened security at just the time I am seeking most to breach their defenses? Have you had to _work_ at stupidity, or does it just come _naturally_ to you?"

Malfoy was unaccustomed, to say the least, to be addressed in this fashion, but Petrov's aura so exuded danger that he did not dare riposte. "It seemed prudent to pursue multiple lines of potential success, Mr. Petrov, rather than rely on only one stratagem. We hope to lure the boy into a region of the castle where he will be killed by a basilisk, at the same time discrediting an inconvenient Ministry official, and closing the school out of sheer parental panic."

"All that sounds like you rely on many 'ifs' to get the job done, Malfoy. I prefer a kill that allows me to plunge my blade into the heart of my quarry, and my fist to be bathed in their pulsing blood. Such things are much more... erm... 'certain'... as well as, of course, 'satisfying'."

Even Lucious, as lacking in common decency or compassion as he was, enured to the presence of Voldemort himself as he was, found his blood running cold as he saw the first flicker of true emotion cross this man's face as he contemplated washing his hands in the blood of his prey. This was not a man, but a monster.

Petrov looked up and focused those dead steely eyes on Malfoy's as he asked, "So, is there anything else to report? Is there anything else out of the ordinary at the school?"

Malfoy thought a moment, "No, nothing really. My son has mentioned that they have some new faculty. Pavel Konstantyn, Gilderoy Lockhart, and a John someone or other from America... history, dark arts, and athletics or something. Nothing important."

"Quite," Petrov replied, with a mirthless smile. Fortunately, he believed in keeping valuable information close to his vest, and said nothing to Malfoy about Konstantyn. He had expected him to appear somewhere along the way, but it was unfortunate that he had so rapidly insinuated himself into the very school! The others sounded irrelevant, but Pavel, his old nemesis, was a distinct "inconvenience".

"Malfoy, you are dismissed," Petrov growled, as he grabbed the velvet purse, stood up, and left just that abruptly.

Lucius Malfoy continued to sit and sip his tea for a moment longer, hoping it would somehow warm the chill that had settled in his stomach. _"That..." the thought, "is a dangerous man. No wonder the Dark Lord insists upon dealing with him from a distance. Gads, who could imagine HIS pedigree?" he found himself wondering if he was even altogether human._


	15. Afterglow

**Afterglow**

Wednesday, fortunately, dawned bright and clear, as John took his place at the High Table for breakfast for the first time in the Dining Hall. He was not the only one among faculty to have brought a dose of PepperUp potion to add to his preprandial beverage. A good helping of eggs, bacon, kippers, and fried spuds, however did much to assuage any lingering fatigue. He looked forward to his first day with Madame Hooch, as well as mingling with the students and, hopefully, getting to meet the Potter boy he was here to protect.

Potter, by the same token, was eating trying mentally to rehearse how he could approach Professor Konstantyn and ask for private lessons in Dark Arts and wand use. Today was not their class day, so he hoped to catch the Professor in a free period. He knew they were both finished with their classes at 3:00, so even though the Professor didn't have any posted Office Hours for that time, he hoped to catch him then.

Classes went by marginally well that day, though every teacher found it challenging to keep the students' attention focused on academics when it seemed that most of them, or at least most of the gentlemen, were more interested in practicing wand motions than paying attention. Professor Snape surmounted the problem by collecting an admirable array of wands before the periods finished, returning them at the end of class. Each professor found their own technique.

Professor Konstantyn has a set routine for class misbehavior. Assuming the offense was not egregious, a student warned for say talking or trivial inattention would be told to stand, usually for a period of 15 minutes or so, whereupon they were asked if they thought they could maintain their focus seated. A second offense in the same class period, and they were ordered to kneel, and from this there was no reprieve during class. Thus far, there had been no third offenses. Anyone who has ever knelt upright, able to read and write on a desktop can tell you the strain on the thigh and calf muscles is considerable, and depending on how long one has been in that position, standing can be difficult. Only one or two students had ever progressed to stage two as yet, and on this day, at least, the Professor lectured to four assorted standing Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs per period.

At 3:00, Professor Konstantyn left and secured his classroom door, bouncing down the stairs like one of the students. Dressed in his outdoor robes, loose fitting for comfortable flying, he looked forward to having this outdoor break. No one, seeing him go to the front gates of the castle and summon his broom, would have the slightest idea of the weaponry secreted about his person in various pockets and crevices. The Weasley twins would give a year's allowance and nefarious earnings even to get a glimpse of the potions, poisons, and gas bombs this old man carried about as "routine".

Harry had gone to his dorm to drop off his bag and books before heading to the Professor's Office, missing him by a solid 10 minutes. A note on the door informed inquirers: "I am out flying among the other after-class broom and quidditch punters. - Signed: Prof. Konstantyn".

 _"Damn," Harry thought, at first. But then, "No, this might be better. He'll be outside where the conversation won't seem so stuffy." He'd get his broom and join the crowd._

So he dashed to his dorm to change out of his class uniform, and pelted for the Field House to get his broom. Once he got up and flying, he could see the riders between the Quidditch Pitch and the Forbidden Forest, split into groups apparently, according to age and/or skill level. Those quite comfortable and agile on their brooms were passing a quaffle back and forth as they flew in circles and figure-8's under the weather eye of Professor McGonagall. Intermediate riders, who did not yet have the skill to be passing a ball around, were flying in groups with Professor Wilhemina Grubbley-Plank, who assists with care of magical creatures and rides a very steady broom, and John. For a moment, Pavel just hovered there, taking in the scene, the beauty of the sky, the hills, the lake, the Forest, and the children all there with his son. There are moments, precious and few, when a simple "awareness of love" can swell in one's chest and be overwhelming. This was one of those simple moments, and he was grateful for it, before he rode on.

Seeing Madame Hooch coaching about a dozen "hesitant riders" as they turned large counterclockwise ovals around her, he meandered that way at a leisurely pace.

She raised an arm in greeting upon seeing his approach and called out, "Good afternoon, Professor! Nice of you to join us on so fine a day."

"Yes, indeed it is," he replied. "Kind of you to invite an old man like me..." he laughed.

"Hmmmm, yes... of course," she quipped as she eyed his sleek black broom, wondering if it could fulfill all it seemed to promise. "Very sporty stick you've got there. Can you ride all she delivers?" she spoke in a tone the children were not likely to hear, as she gave him a very come-hither look. "John speaks highly of your riding."

"Ah," Konstantyn laughed. "I fear he is slightly biased, but was that a hint of challenge I heard in your question? Have you heard anything about me and 'challenges'. I find them a bit irresistible."

"I have indeed," she laughed. "And with only the utmost respect and courtesy, I challenge you... here to Dumbledore's Turret - you see it there with the Hogwarts Pennant? Yes? - then to the Hogsmeade Bridge, and back to the Quidditch Goals there - you see?" she said, indicating the western set of goal hoops.

"I accept your challenge with equal respect and courtesy, and I understand the course. Now, it would probably be 'bad form' for us to tear off in this way in front of the children. Would it not?"

"Well, this is, after all, an 'advanced class' and extra-curricular at that. No one could begrudge us a little romp, could they? What's the worst that could happen? Besides, John and I discussed this, and he'll watch this group if I go a wandering."

"Worst that could happen?" Pavel looked at Minerva, carefully monitoring all her charges, and said," Well, I'll not be surprised if we wind up in detention with Professor McGonagall... but you know what they say... _'Better to beg for forgiveness than wait on permission!'_ I accept your challenge. You call the start!"

As the two of them reoriented their broomsticks towards the Castle towers, Madame Hooch blew her whistle and instructed her group, "I am going to be away for a few minutes. Please attend to the instructions of Master Constantine in my absence," and she nodded to John as he acknowledged her announcement.

"Whenever you're ready, M'lady," Pavel invited.

"All righty then... _Ready... Steady... **GO**!"_

And they were OFF!

One would expect that Ramona Hooch could ride with skill, and that indeed she could. Apparently she'd played more than her share of quidditch in her youth, and thoroughly enjoyed speed. Her broom was a Firebolt, and she hunkered down low to the stick, as she parked her heels in the footrests back alongside the bristles. Her hat was firmly scarf-tied to her head, but still the front brim flopped back flat against the point as the scarf ends and back brim trailed behind her. It made her look like she wore a pointed baseball cap backwards.

Thinking she'd have left the old Professor in her dust, she was more than shocked to find him steadily drawing up alongside her on the left, gaining ground without obvious effort. The wind whipped his hair back flat along his head, and he had donned some wrap around spectacles to protect his eyes from errant aerial wildlife, as he drew head to head with her.

Not prepared to be trifled with, she edged to her left and tried ever so gentle a bump, to bobble him. Not being the least bit surprised or offended, she was delighted to see him recover, and return the favor. She took the bump, and started to shift her path downwards to take a line free of interference, only to see Harry Potter on his Firebolt, tearing up towards them from the front of the Castle at a breakneck speed. Harry was laid down flat and sleek against his broom, striding the foot supports like a pogo stick. He propelled himself up alongside them like a jet, wind whipping his hair, cheeks rippling against his brilliant smile.

He pulled up alongside the Professor to shout, "Professor... Konstantyn... I came out... to talk... to you..." as he maneuvered his broom in waves to bring his face near the Professor's ear.

The Professor laughed, as quickly he cast a charm to let them all hear one another's voices clearly. "Now is not a good time, Mr. Potter. Madame Hooch and I are 'testing our brooms', planning to circle the Headmaster's Turret Pennant, then head to the Hogsmeade Bridge, to the far quidditch goal hoops, then back where the students are practicing..." he offered, wondering how Potter would respond the the tacit invitation of having shared course waypoints.

Madame Hooch's voice cut across, "Mr. Potter, you have no business here. You are on a House team..."

Wanting to cut in before Madame Hooch issued an "order" commanding Potter back to the ground - which he would, of course, have to endorse - and knowing that Potter was a Seeker with an excellent reputation, Konstantyn interrupted, "since we're all probably in for a detention anyway..." pointing briefly at Professor McGonagall who was watching the three of them furiously... "Let us see if Mr. Potter can keep up with his elders, eh? I'm told this young man's skills are superlative, is that not so?" the Professor asked innocently, as the three of them pulled up to hover in the discussion.

"That is so..." Ramona smiled, "though I suspect there'll be the piper to be paid when you get back," they all cast a surreptitious glance at the furious McGonagall. "Very well then, the Professor gave you the course, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did," Harry answered.

"May I suggest, Madame, as we are already halfway to the pennant. that we make this a twice around course? Start us off again, if you would..." the Professor laughed.

"Right, then. _Ready... Steady... **GO!"**_ and off they shot again.

Harry took the lead this time, as his broom seemed not even to notice him lying down along it. That was a terrific position for straightaway, but made for a very difficult turn if he did not shift radically for the lean into the pennant.

Both Konstantyn and Hooch stayed just behind the bristles of Harry's broom, which surprised him a great deal. He was not accustomed to being kept up with, so leaned further into his speed and started to pull away by inches at a time.

As they approached the target pinnacle, Konstantyn flashed an evil grin at Hooch, as he crept up towards the back of Harry's broom and, just as Harry sat up and leaned inwards to make the astonishingly tight turn that a racer would make... he pulled up alongside and gently kicked away the broom's tail outwards. This created a vast overcorrection for the turn and sent Harry safely sailing at high speed back the way he'd come, having failed to make the turn about a point.

The maneuver was brilliant, and left Harry both laughing and cursing to himself, as his two teachers simply rounded their turn now easily 40 meters ahead of him. Rather than slowing down to do an horizontal 180 turn, Harry accelerated, dove, and did what aviators call an "Immelman" maneuver, pulling his nose upwards into a loop like a roller coaster, and inverting at the top of the loop. It allowed him to reverse direction without ever decelerating.

Both Konstantyn and Hooch watched the move admiringly, as Harry made a full speed flat horizontal turn about a point at the pennant nearly chinning himself on the flagpole, and lay back down on his broom, rolling back upright to come at them in full speed. There was easily a mile of clear forward run to the next landmark, with nothing to do but flatten out against wind resistance, or jostle.

Hooch tried a "casual" brush against the back of Pavel's broom, as she crossed behind him and down a bit, to put space between them. He'd seen her begin the move, and accelerated forward just before she made contact, throwing her a little off balance as she'd prepared to make a bump.

Harry was quickly closing the gap, and seeing them use body checking realized that trying to draw up alongside either of them for a pass might not be wise. Seeing Madame Hooch taking a low path, he decided to move a bit high and left of Professor Konstantyn.

Konstantyn's glasses allowed him to see behind him fairly easily, and seeing Potter's maneuvering, he decided to move up and left to discourage that path. Potter receded, moving back down and staying behind as they pulled up towards the Bridge. Potter started moving up and left again, but this time he kept edging farther and farther, drawing Konstantyn out of his preferred track, and then... Potter did a roll around Konstantyn's body, and pushed off from Konstantyn's broom to help himself make a sharper turn as he headed towards the quidditch hoops. Not only did he place himself into a perfect trajectory to pass Konstantyn and even squirt past Hooch as she slowed to make her turn, but he'd spun Konstantyn out of the path for his turn and made him lose several broomlengths.

Pavel had to admire the boy's skills. As he pulled up even with Hooch, he used his speaking charm to say to her, "he really is quite good, isn't he? Even I am impressed!"

She answered, "He really is. He does turns and stops that scare me to death. Wait till you see him play Seeker. You won't believe he's only 12. I can see this race is going to be strategy at the corners, anyway. Well, two more to go." As Konstantyn nodded, and they both focused on catching up to Potter again.

Harry had figured out that his best odds were simply to stay ahead of his teachers. They were both using body checks, especially at the turns that made it the toughest to recover. But as both of them had brooms as good as or better than his, his only hope was greater speed by a better airflow and his lighter weight.

As they all approached the Pennant turn for the last time, Konstantyn charmed to Hooch, "I'm going to try a Pit maneuver. Can you be ready, in case he's unseated? I want to see how he handles it." Hooch acknowledged the information and nodded. A "Pit" maneuver is a hard sideways bump on the back quarter at a high speed. It normally causes fishtailing and overcompensation. The result is generally a sideways skid or a complete spinout.

Scant meters from the turning point, Pavel struck Harry's broom very firmly, throwing the back hard right. Pavel then rose quickly, not to interfere with Harry's recovery, and made an exceedingly tight turn around the flagpole, letting his greater weight be an advantage to him. Harry was not unseated by the collision, but he did sway back and forth a number of times regaining steady flight. In that time, both Konstanyn and Hooch had passed him up and were on their way to the Bridge with several lengths' lead.

Just as Konstantyn was hunkering down for the last hogsleg, a metallic gleam flashed at the corner of his eye... fairly deep inside the Forbidden Forest. From his explorations, he knew there was nothing man made in there that should display such a flash, and instantly he swerved off course towards what he'd seen. Madame Hooch was confused, and he projected his voice to her ear, telling her to carry on with Harry, that he'd seen something he wanted to check out. She nodded and aimed towards the Bridge.

Konstantyn then projected his voice to John, "John, there's something in the Forest here that may not belong. Can Minerva watch the students and you join me? Madame Hooch should be there momentarily," and he saw John immediately give some instructions to his pupils, and let his broom flash him towards the point where their paths could intersect the soonest.

What none of them had anticipated was that Harry had seen the same flash, and had now also left the course path streaking at breakneck speed to meet up with Pavel and John. "Potter!" Konstantyn flashed in his ear... "Return to Madame Hooch immediately. We are going to enter the Forbidden Forest and you are not permitted there right now."

"But, Professor," he shouted, correctly assuming Pavel had some means of hearing him as well as speaking, "I saw something there, something flashing. I've BEEN in the Forest before. There's centaurs, unicorns, even acromantulas, but nothing that should flash like a pair of binoculars or a mirror."

"Potter, I know that. Now I'm ordering you to return. If I must give up chase, and turn around to escort you back to Madame Hooch, it will become one of the worst days you've ever known at Hogwarts... and THEN I'll turn you over to Professor McGonagall. Now STOP and return to finish the course... besides, you can't fly through the boundary wards on your broom anyway, and we can."

That finally sank into Harry's mind. He was right. Student brooms, or students ON brooms, could not fly through the boundary wards of the Castle and grounds. It would be unmanageable chaos if students could fly off randomly in the night, hoping to return undetected by breakfast. Frustrated, but convinced, Harry reversed his direction and headed back for Madame Hooch, as he breathed a clearly annoyed, "Yes, sir," in the tone normally reserved for Vernon Dursley.

"Good lad, we will, however, discuss this a bit later..." Konstantyn finished, with a rather ominous echo to his voice as he shifted all his focus forward to the suspicious area of the Forest. John had caught up with him, and Pavel made a slithering motion with his hand, rather like a swimming fish. John nodded and the two of them started flying opposite in a winding serpentine search pattern, carefully examining the ground below them. Using this slalom pattern, they approached a clearing in the Forest where Pavel believed the flash had originated.

Slowly and carefully he descended into the clearing, motioning John to remain hovering for overwatch, and after a careful walk around, signaled that John should join him. Both together and on opposite sides, they circled the clearing and explored a few meters into the surrounding trees, covering every inch of the ground. They also examined the trees themselves, the limbs and growths all the way up the trees, seeking sign of interference or manipulation.

"Something, or rather someone, has been here most recently, John."

"Agreed..." John nodded, even sniffing the surroundings, as well as using his wand carefully as a sensor. We're not overseen by any of the students here, are we?"

"No, but we do have one 'guardian angel' above us at a considerable altitude," Pavel smiled, pointing upwards with his wand towards Professor McGonagall whom he had seen take a high altitude overwatch position when he motioned John down to the ground.

"Ah, well, that's all right then. My I suggest we use all our available means and senses to explore here at the moment? There is plenty of wildlife about from whom I may glean some energy if required. And you did already inform our friends that we have extensive animorphic talents."

"I agree, John. I can feel very recent, very dark energy signatures here. I think spotting them forced them to apparate away. I should have dropped lower to the ground and come in stealthy... Bad judgment on my part. Damn."

"I doubt it, Dad. I suspect they'd have relocated anyway, on the off chance that you, or any of those dozens of students out there, spotted something amiss. Besides, they'd have had you under observation anyway. You did nothing wrong," so saying John transformed into his most typical animagus form, his raven, and launched himself, turning increasing circles from the clearing out and over the Forest. He glided in among and between trees and copses of trees here and there to explore trails, hides, holes, nests, and any structures or aggregations that looked more human than natural.

Pavel smiled, at receiving "comfort and encouragement" from his son at his self-critique, much as he himself has offered whether to him, to students, or to operatives for years. _"The boy's right, however. All that is probably true. Ah well, true or not, it is the past now. Let me focus on the present,_ " and for the first time on this journey, Pavel transformed into his own most natural form, a bat. Smaller and more agile than John's raven, he also explored anything that seemed untoward or out of place, but could enter and examine much smaller possibilities than John could. Further, he could hear the very pulse of the Forest. He too, flew up and began circling the clearing and out into the forest, primarily listening for any sound of voices or the signature hum of certain frequencies of spell. But alas... nothing. He wanted to try just one more thing, so he landed to shift form once again... to a handsome alpha gray wolf. In this form he could explore scents, aromas, and smells at almost the level of auras. Often, as now, he gleaned more information from residual scents than any other medium.

Two odors told him more in 10 seconds than all their investigations had so far. He could smell bad borscht, and worse vodka. There had been two operatives here, and they had stayed under an invisibility glamour for a number of days. He located their latrine, and backed away carefully, one paw at a time.

Yes, though it was no particular shock as far as news went, they could at least rest assured... Petrov's men now had surveillance on Hogwarts. He'd have to start keeping a closer eye on Potter. The wolves were closing in... present form excepted of course.

He shifted back into "old man professor" form, and stepped astride his broom as he kicked off to hover and wait on John. That took next to no time, as there had been little more determined. And the two of them gradually rose to join Professor McGonagall. As they ascended they quickly exchanged all the information they had gathered, and agreed that Harry's risk assessment had just become more immediate.

Pavel saw Harry, who had completed the course, begin to approach them from the distance. Pavel quickly charm-spoke to him, _"Mr. Potter, listen carefully, I need you to land and sit on the grass near the Field House looking unhappy. I offer you detention with me, beginning today, for the offense of joining this group when you were not authorized, and your unjustifiable and inexcusable antics in flight - which were brilliantly performed, young man. You can accept my detention, or decline. However, if you decline, I suspect Professor McGonagall is likely to impose her own sanctions, which you may find far more draconian than my own. I doubt she will 'pile on' her own punishments along with mine. You have seconds to decide... what is your answer?"_

This was met with Potter's broad smile, as he immediately slowed and descended to the ground, kicking the grass in a fine display of pique as he went to the shed wall, propped his broom against it carefully, and slumped to a seat tearing at the grass and throwing it randomly in a most convincing display of ill-temper.

Minerva had been flying down towards them, as they'd all adjusted course back to the student body.

"First things first, gentlemen... what was that aboot?" McGonagall said, as together they rode at a sedate pace.

"I saw something there that should not have been, and we've discovered that we've had unwanted tourist visitors camping there for the past few days. They're long gone now, and I doubt they will return to that spot. But it's safe to say we are now all under observation from closeby," Pavel answered. They then rapidly disclosed all that they had discovered.

"And now, as for you and those stunts by Potter!..."


	16. Brush Brooms

**Brush Brooms**

As they rode back towards the students at a moderate pace, John smiled realizing Professor McGonagall's remark was intended for his father alone. He excused himself to speed back to marshaling his group, and laughed as he gave them some brief privacy.

"I don't know what you mean, _'as for you and...',_ Minerva?" Pavel replied in his most innocent tone.

"What sort of example do you suppose yer setting out there racing with Ramona Hooch in front of all these children?"

"I was not 'racing', nor was she. That was a _'proficiency check ride'_ , as she wanted to test my riding skill and equipment before determining if I were qualified to coach the students here... that's all." It was amazing to see that he could deliver such a speech with a totally straight face and innocent expression, along with a nearly perfect tone of affronted righteous indignation.

"I see," Minerva couldn't help but laugh. "That's your story and you're sticking to it, I suppose... And Potter? Have you an excuse for him as well? He could have broken his neck!"

"Ah, well, as to that. No, Potter had _NOT_ been invited to join us, we were as surprised as you to see him shooting up at us from the Field House, and he was not authorized to be in this activity at all. However, once he was with us, Ramona and I felt it best for him to remain in our company for safety's sake. I have already assigned him detention with me for his antics, and you see him miserably grounded right down there..." looking at Potter unhappily tormenting the lawn, "where he will sit watching everyone else having fun for the rest of the hour, cursing the very air I breathe." Minerva had to agree, very little would so "punish" Potter as being grounded from flying, when everyone else was in the air.

"It is my plan, at 4:00 to take Potter to my classroom for detention, as I start to get to know him. He came out to speak with me in the first place, so this seems the best opportunity I've had to connect with him. It is important for what we are trying to do," as Pavel dropped his voice into a more serious tone.

Again, Minerva could find no fault to his logic, but still had that niggling certainty that she was being "had" somewhere along the line. "Well..." she mused, "as long as he'll be serving detention. Just... don't you go spoiling the lad. He's a handful, and requires very little encouragement to get his own way, regardless of the rules!"

"I shall bear that in mind, Professor. I'll try not to spoil him, as you can no doubt see I have spoiled my son," he laughed, as they caught up with the student gaggle. She bit off a retort that he not get her started on that, for fear of being overheard by bystanders as he rode over to the novice riders, and she returned to the skilled.

Seeing his return, Harry stood up and started to grasp his broom, thinking he would join the Professor and pose his requests.

 _The Professor's voice spoke clearly alongside him, "Stop! Mr. Potter. Release your broom, sit right there, and wait for me."_

 _Checking that no one was near enough to hear him, Harry replied, "But, Professor, I just want to talk to you about..."_

 _Konstantyn's voice, in its sternest tone, said, "Mr. Potter, I know you want to talk to me, and you shall. The content is not relevant at this moment. Your ability to obey instructions, is. You had no authorization to join this activity, which was posted for lesser skilled, non quidditch playing flyers. You asked no one for permission to come out here today. You have interrupted me in an activity. Now... after infuriating Professor McGonagall with your inexcusable risks and reckless flying, I have assured her that I will see to your punishment, that she need not._

 _"That punishment begins here. Mr. Potter, you will sit down silently... You are, for the next 40 minutes, literally 'grounded'. Had you asked any of the teachers here for permission to fly with us, you'd likely have had it and be flying for the rest of the hour. Rules, especially regarding safety, are NOT always made to be broken. Now, sit or not, obey me or defy me, it is your choice. Decide..."_

 _Again, the Professor heard Harry hiss, "Yes, sir," in that contemptuous tone generally reserved for Vernon Dursley, and with sincere disgust - this time - Harry threw himself onto the turf, and began punching the grass in his frustration._

 _"Thank you, Mr. Potter. You will join me at 4:00 after this activity is dismissed. Come to my classroom, and be punctual."_

Harry wondered what he had let himself in for as he fumed, sitting there, and watched everyone else learning balance, skills and maneuvers, having great fun on their brooms. The Professor, he noticed, was incredibly patient and encouraging to those who were timid or uncertain. He saw, more than once, the Professor steady a bobble or two as someone struggled with that battle of wills that can happen between a timid rider and their broom. At the same time, he could be harsh and swift in addressing any horseplay.

Harry observed a particularly interesting interaction. Two fourth year Slytherins had herded a second year Hufflepuff a bit off to the side, where they thought they could not be observed, and were bullying him. They had managed to maneuver him into the Quidditch Pitch, below the level of the upper stands, where they could not be seen by anyone else. Konstantyn noticed the youngster missing from his novice flock, and made slowly ascending circles until he saw the hazing going on.

Harry had seen the tormenters begin to pick on the 'Puff, and had noticed them cut him from the herd and drift to the stadium. But he couldn't do anything about it where he sat in his 'penalty box', and never thought to try speaking to the Professor. He didn't think the communication was still open, and _"besides," he thought bitterly, "why would an adult like him care, anyway? Snape wouldn't!"  
_

So it came as a shock to see Konstantyn dive into the arena upon spotting the trio like he, Harry, dove for a snitch. It came as an even greater shock, to see the two bullies marching briskly out of the arena gates as each of their brooms delivered stout thwacks to their respective backsides, every two or three paces. The Professor rode sedately behind them with their young victim Jeremy Cole, of Hufflepuff, riding alongside him. Jeremy wore a relieved smile with just a little satisfaction masking his red eyes, runny nose, and flushed face, as he recovered from whatever hazing had been going on. The Professor motioned for him to rejoin his group which he did happily.

The Professor continued to accompany the miscreants past Potter about 5 meters further along the Field House wall, as they'd now begun to yelp very quietly at each thwap of the bundled switches. The Professor simply said, "Stop." The boys halted in their tracks, and the brooms fell to the ground. Their sighs of relief could be heard through their hitching breath, as they were grateful none of their classmates were close enough to see their tear-stained red cheeks. The Professor dismounted his broom and commanded that they stand with their backs to the wall. He then ordered, "Sit down."

They began to whimper and protest, "But Professor, we can't. Please..."

"Then kneel. And wait for your instructor to come deal with you. Down, now." He nodded in approval as they obeyed, remounted his broom and rose to join Madame Hooch and Master Constantine.

Kneeling, especially after the exercise of broom riding, can be extremely taxing on the legs. In that these two Slytherin boys were notorious for their bullying, mayhem, and nasty comments, it's not surprising that Harry felt some unworthy satisfaction as they would try to get some relief to their thighs by rocking back to sit on their calves, only to shoot upright instantly from the fire still in their trousers. They underestimated the discomfort of being swatted numerous times with a brush broom. Harry had once been beaten with a standard muggle straw broom by Aunt Petunia, and knew it could hurt a whole lot.

25 meters or so above their heads, a teacher's conference was being held among Professors McGonagall, Konstantyn, Hooch and Constantine, as Pavel reported on events. They had all seen the little punitive procession from the arena, of course.

Pavel said, "Just to be clear, I did not cast a striking hex on the boys with their brooms. Professor McGonagall has informed me that only the Headmaster or Heads of House are authorized to strike students. I cast the charm _'Turn About Fair Play'_ , so the outcome was entirely in the boys' control, not mine."

"So _THAT_ 's what they were doing with that wee tyke!?" Minerva hissed, outraged.

"Well, not exactly. They only received about a quarter of it, as Jeremy there one was being struck with all three brooms, and at a much greater frequency than I allowed them to receive."

"The little hooligans!" she hissed. "Well, how are we to handle this? Madame Hooch, this is your activity. What do you want to do?"

"Actually," Ramona replied, "this is within John's scope of duties, so what if we let him take care of this? Ready to enter the trenches, John?"

"No problem at all, Madame. If it is up to me, I think perhaps they could make a choice... detention with me for as long as it takes them to complete a task, or I can turn them over to Professor Snape for bullying and violence against a smaller, weaker, student. Not to mention the ganging up part. I can't believe he would be very sympathetic to their plight, sore though they are at the moment."

"What task did you have in mind, Master Constantine?" Madame Hooch inquired.

"I noticed a good supply of broom polishing medium in the Field House when I looked around. How many school brooms do we have, more or less?"

Madame Hooch smiled, saying, "About 75, or so, I'd say."

"And when, would you guess, they were last tended, trimmed, and polished?"

"I couldn't even say, Master Constantine. I've no idea at all," she answered, nodding.

"Well, I shall offer them the opportunity to remedy that, and... as Professor Snape likes to be informed when his house members receive detention, perhaps we can prevail upon him to judge satisfactory completion, when they feel they've attained it. That way, he won't feel 'left out'."

"Sounds like a decision worthy of Solomon, eh?" Professor McGonagall declared, as they all nodded assent and returned to their groups, while John rode down to address his two miscreants.

While all this was going on, the two Slytherins looked over at Harry, as the bigger one said, "So wha'cher doing sitting there for, Potter?"

"I'm grounded til the end of the hour. Punishment. Professor Konstantyn. Then I have detention with him. And what about you two, what'd you do?"

"Mind yer own business. Nuffin' to do wi' you!" he replied in an ugly tone.

"Oh, I see," Harry sneered back. "Clearly you're just taking a little break from all the exercise. At least I'm sitting down. No, wait, let me rephrase that... At least I _can_ sit down," and he laughed.

In just a few moments, Master Constantine stood before the two Slytherins and pronounced their sentences. They chose to take the detention with him, rather than be turned over to Professor Snape to handle. They were told to remain as they were until the end of the hour whereupon they started to protest and whine. John stood for it a minute or so... then told them to be quiet, that his ruling would stand.

As he turned and started to walk away, one muttered to the other, _"I don't know who the hell he thinks he is, anyway. He's just the 'farking new guy' and only an Instructor at that, not even a real Professor."_ Unfortunately for them, they were unaware that "extraordinary hearing" was one of those little Konstantyn family perc's, a passive ability by virtue of his heritage.

John turned on his heel and said to them, "Gentlemen, I've reconsidered your complaint about remaining here like this." At which the principal complainant turned to the other with an air of deep satisfaction. "Well, it's about time..." as he started to get up.

"Yes," John continued, "you're right. It's entirely unfair for you to have to kneel there in that grass. Just sit down, instead."

They froze, and immediately began to back pedal. "No, sir. This is fine. We're fine. We'll just wait here."

Now John, with the same tone of authority his father could use so effectively, got very close to the boys and in an extremely low and dangerous-sounding voice, whispered... _"Gentlemen, you have a choice among three options to make in the next ten seconds. You can sit down in that soft grass, sore as you are right now, or you can report to Professor Snape with this parchment - as a small scroll popped into his hand - describing everything you have said and done in the past 30 minutes, or I can ask Professor Snape if he would be kind enough to grant us a moment of his time out here right now, and hand the parchment to him myself. Now... Decide! I'm sure he'd be glad to see to your correction himself, if that's what you prefer."_

Silently, eyes shooting him daggers, the two of them drew their legs out in front of them, winced as they drew a few initial ragged breaths, and hissed a moment or two as they adjusted to their weight now resting on their battered seats.

"Good choice, gentlemen. I will contact you tomorrow with the time and place to report for your detention. When this activity is dismissed, you may rise, put away your brooms, and walk back to the Castle, not before. Is that clear?"

"Yes..." said the quieter one.

"Yeah, whatever..." from the sullen one.

"No, gentlemen. That is not the response. Try again. Now, _'is... that... clear...?_ '"

 _"Yes, sir..."_ they both managed, this time.

And he decided to take what he could get, and flew back to join his class.

Harry had just taken it all in, without staring, and found himself amazed at how similar Master Constantine seemed to Professor Konstantyn. It started him thinking.

His musings continued until he heard Madame Hooch's whistle blow for everyone's attention at 10 minutes to 4. He stood, put his broom away as all were instructed to do, and enjoyed a run up the hill to the Castle, pleased to stretch his legs after his enforced immobility along with several others. His two fellow inmates were a bit slower to get up, morosely put away their brooms, and walked at a slow pace back up the hill.

* * *

Before going in, Pavel and Minerva watched the children head safely inside, then took a long loop around the boundary wards to see if anything looked amiss. They'd noticed the slight limp on the part of their bullies.

"You'd probably best see that they get to Poppy before supper, Minerva. Durmstrang wouldn't care, but we doubtless don't want them to suffer any actual injury, and the bruising they probably have could clot," as he shook his head, still outraged at what they were doing to a younger child.

"Oh, my! Pavel, what about the Hufflepuff? You say you toned this down from what they were giving him... He must be horribly..."

"Calm yourself, dear lady," he laughed. "Jeremy, it was. Jeremy Cole... rather bright in history and pays attention at Dueling Club as well. "I took care of him right away. He was left with not more than some 'sniffle and snot'. He doesn't even remember how it hurt. He remembers THAT it hurt, and who did it, but no muscle memory of how or how much it hurt. There's also no damage at all. I healed and removed all of that."

"How did you manage to do that without making your... _ahem_... 'abilities' known?" she asked, a bit puzzled.

"He was so upset and crying, he didn't even register anything at first beyond being rescued. The rebound charm had started 'delivery' on the miscreants immediately, and as they tried to outrun their brooms all over the grass of the quidditch pitch, they wouldn't have noticed a Mountain Troll. So as I knelt and held the boy to let him recover and quiet his crying, I just 'fixed the situation' as he calmed down in my arms."

"I see," she mused. A few moments later, as she thought this through... so... you..."

"Yes, ya canny witch, I just took it on myself. For what satisfaction it may give you, I'll be relieved to leave this broom and get some privacy for a few moments inside. Still," he laughed, "their animation charm wasn't that good. They hex like wimps."

Minerva laughed with all too satisfied an expression. "Karma can be a wondrous thing, Pavel."

"I knew you'd appreciate the irony," he laughed with a mocking frown. "Well... I couldn't let the boy go to Madame Pomfrey like that. The embarrassment and discomfort would just have made everything so much worse for him."

By now, they had completed their rounds and were walking into the Castle doors, finding the foyer astonishingly free of students.

"Would ye like me to cast a cushioning charm for ye, Pavel?" she teased, thoroughly enjoying the moment.

"No, thank you, kind lady. That would entirely wound my pride. I shall bear up under the trial and tribulation, and let my ego bask in my heroism and sacrifice."

"Oh, my!" she made a face... "it's getting a bit deep in here for my tastes..." as she delicately hiked up her skirts and walked away, as if treading through something unmentionable, saying she was on her way to Madame Pomfrey's from whence she would summon the boys.

Pavel laughed, and started to bound up the stairs for his next hurdle, time to face down the indomitable Harry Potter. Well, after he'd had a chance to do some healing of his own. He did take a moment on the stairs to look in all directions and, seeing that he was utterly alone, cast a quick cooling/cushioning charm beneath his clothing in the affected area. _"I should have thought of this 30 minutes ago. I must be getting old," he chided himself. He'd need to eat a good meal this evening and head to bed a bit early for replenishment. He could never admit this to John in a million years.  
_


	17. Potter Gets Detention

**Potter Gets Detention**

Professor Konstantyn arrived at his classroom door just as Harry was walking up. He was pleased that Harry was punctual, though this meant he'd not get a few minutes to take care of things before their meeting. Ah well.

"Thank you for being on time, Mr. Potter," opening the classroom door with his handprint, he held it open for Harry, closed it behind them, and then led the way through his office door, which he left open. Extending his arm towards the fireplace and "library side" of his office, he invited Harry to find a comfortable chair as he went to take off his traveling cloak and outer robe.

"Please make yourself comfortable, feel free to remove your cloak. Would you care for something to drink? I'm going to send for some tea and juice."

"Thank you, Professor, pumpkin juice would be great!" Harry answered, a bit cautiously. After all, he was here for detention, and had no idea what to expect.

"Certainly." He had stepped over to his wardrobe hanging up his garments, and donning a simple indoor robe over his waistcoat. He pointed at small bell, jangling it, to be met by the nearly immediate "pop" of his multilingual house elf. They spoke for a moment in some language unknown to Harry, the Professor laughed, and clearly bowed to the elf with his thanks. Harry had never seen an elf's ears color that deeply before, as the servant was nearly overcome at having a wizard bow to him. Cautious though he was trying to play this, that made Harry smile broadly as the Professor came over to sit down.

"That, Mr. Potter, is Wilfried. He also relocated here during the war, when the family he served was killed in Dresden. He's been here at Hogwarts many years, and loves the opportunity to speak German, so he's rather 'adopted me' as his pet project. He's always trying to offer me German foods and delicacies, apparently unable to embrace the fact that while I can speak accent-free German - well, nearly accent-free - I am from the Ukraine! Ah well, it makes him a happy elf, and he takes wonderful care of me here. So all is well.

"Now, what was it that you wanted to discuss that seemed urgent enough to take a detention for, anyway?" the Professor asked as the refreshments arrived and he poured a cool goblet of pumpkin juice, handing it to Harry as he poured some tea for himself.

"Before that, sir, may I ask a question?" Harry looked at him quizzically.

"No 'unaskable' questions, Mr. Potter, as long as respectfully expressed," the Professor smiled, squeezing the lemon wedge into his tea.

"Well, has my detention begun already? I mean, is this detention right now?"

The Professor wagged a finger and a Tempus spell showed the time over the fireplace as 4:07 p.m. "I told you that your detention would begin at 4 o'clock, Mr. Potter, so yes, you are in detention as we speak. Why?"

Harry's face showed a look of both calculation and satisfaction. "I had a theory, sir, and you've just confirmed it. Thank you."

"May I ask the nature of your theory?"

"It's nothing, sir. Nothing important. I was just checking something out."

"Nonetheless, I'm curious. What have I confirmed for you? That I have a strange notion of detention?"

Harry laughed, "Well, actually, sir. Yes. Though I don't think I'd have put it quite that way."

"Please tell me the reasoning of your theory," Pavel sipped his tea as he watched Harry gradually relax.

"Well, you see, sir, Neville, Ron, and I all share a dorm room. Saturday they were both beside themselves with worry about your detention. When I asked what happened afterwards, they wouldn't talk about it, so at first I thought it was really bad.

"But that couldn't be right. Because if you'd given Ron a hard time, he'd have spent all that night and Sunday calling you names or cussing you out. And he didn't say anything bad about you at all. That's just not Ron. And he checked some books on chess out of the library and wanted to try a bunch of new stuff on me playing chess Sunday. So my guess is that you and he played chess, and you showed him some new moves.

"Neville wouldn't talk either, but whenever anyone mentioned your name he didn't act nervous, and when we got ready to come to class Tuesday he could say 'Professor Konstantyn' without stuttering at all. If you'd given him a hard time, he'd be afraid of you, look down or hesitate about the class, and probably stammer a bit over your name. He even said he'd gotten some plants or herbs or something for Professor Snape, and seemed less nervous about Potions than normal. So I figured that must have something to do with his detention.

"And here we are now, I'm in detention, and yet you've served me pumpkin juice, and I see butterbeer sitting there as well. So... yes... sir, I'd respectfully submit, 'you have a strange notion of detentions'. And I'm very grateful. Thank you."

"Well spotted, Mr. Potter. Let's test your deductions and theory a little further, shall we? Why, do you suppose your friends did not tell you what their detentions entailed?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Well, it can't be that they were upset. And normally they'd tell me something like that in a heartbeat if I asked, so... I suspect you asked them not to talk about it."

"Right again. Now... try this question... _Why would I do that?_ "

"That's easy, Professor. You wouldn't want that news to get around. The last thing you'd need is to get a reputation for 'warm and fuzzy' detentions. No one would fear you. No one would respect you."

"Ah, well put, Mr. Potter. Five points to Gryffindor for effective investigation through deductive logic," and he paused a moment, sipping his tea thoughtfully, "I'm curious. Do you find that 'fear' of someone, is the same as 'respect' for them?"

Harry's face took on a gloomy cast for a moment as he answered, "No, sir, not at all." The answer was too quick and too intense. Pavel could see that this boy was well acquainted with someone to fear, but not respect. And it wasn't Voldemort he was thinking of.

"Well, thank you for your insights. You are quite right on all counts, Ron and I played chess, Neville and I collected some specimens and explored the grounds a bit. I did, indeed, swear them to secrecy for the sake of my 'reputation', and I will ask the same of you, if you don't mind. I wouldn't want it getting around that I am 'warm and fuzzy' and not to be regarded."

Harry laughed out loud at this, "Oh, no fear of THAT! sir. Never happen in a million years after today!"

Pavel had to chuckle at the boy's lack of candor. "Really? Do you find me harsh? I know you were not pleased at being grounded, but..."

"Oh, no, sir. That's got nothing to do with it. Cassius Warrington and Adrian Pucey were the two Slytherins that you caught tormenting poor little Jeremy this afternoon. They're right gits, who've picked on and terrorized first and second years ever since they've been here. The teachers try to catch them, but they're always just crafty enough to get away with their crap..." he paused... "Sorry Professor, um..."

"Consider yourself appropriately reprimanded... and just go on," he laughed, fascinated at this recitation.

"Well, sir, not to put too fine a point on it, um... just about the whole school saw them get a right good drubbing today. I wasn't the only one there, but especially all those young and timid ones, have just been terrorized by those two, and to see them 'swept along' like that, and too tender to sit... well, it encouraged a lot of their present and former victims. Whatever reputation it is you get here, it's not likely to be 'warm and fuzzy'... sir."

That last statement made Pavel laugh in his teacup.

"I saw them setting him up and forcing him into the Pitch, but being grounded as I was, I couldn't do anything about it. I'm sure glad you did, sir."

Pavel was saddened to hear the tale, but then confused by Potter's last comments. "You saw them taking him off?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you wanted to do something about it, but could not because of your punishment?"

"Yes, sir. I didn't want to defy you."

"Understood. Out of curiosity, what would you have done?"

"Don't know for sure, but probably dive in on him as I guess you did, and swing him up on the back of my my broom to get him the heck out of there and back to the group."

Pavel nodded, Potter could probably pull that maneuver off easily. "I can see that. Wouldn't have been hard for you. By the way, before I forget, that was some very fine riding out there during our little tour with Madame Hooch... I was very impressed. But more importantly at this moment, why did you not say something to me about the trouble Jeremy was in? Had you shouted or even stood up, I'd have come or spoken to you instantly, to correct you and you could have told me of Jeremy."

At this, Potter looked down and felt his cheeks burn. He was ashamed. He'd thought the Professor wouldn't care about what was happening to Jeremy, and after seeing how he _did_ handle it, how much the Professor _did_ care and how wrong Harry was, he was too embarrassed to tell the truth. He just shut down and sat mute.

"Mr. Potter?"

Long silence...

"Harry, what is it? It's all right. I'd like to know. It is important to me. Whatever it is, I will not be angry. It's all right, really." Pavel's skills as a mind mage gave him a constant "radar" reading on intense emotions when he was engaging with someone. He could feel Harry's shame, and the sense of inner struggle he was going through, deciding whether or not Pavel was "safe" to talk to or not, whether he could be 'trusted'. The Professor just passed a butterbeer in Harry's direction, seeing that he'd finished his pumpkin juice, but did not speak or break the silence. He was even careful to keep his motions minimal, not to disturb Harry's deliberations. He knew, somehow, that they had reached a critical moment in their conversation, and now he could only wait.

The silence persisted, until Pavel said, "All right, Mr. Potter. Perhaps you can tell me later. For now, then... what was it you DID want to ask me, that was so important?" and he laughed.

Harry looked up as though pulled from a dream. Again, he said, "I hate to ask, Professor, but I have this other question..." and it was Harry's turn to laugh at himself.

"All right, Mr. Potter. But just out of curiosity, you _did_ actually _have_ something specific to talk about when you came out to find me, did you not?" as together they chuckled.

"Yessir, I swear. And I'll get to that in just a second, but... um... Are you and Master Constantine related? I don't mean to pry, or any disrespect. It may not be my business, but I'm very curious if that is the case..."

"I'm not offended by the question, and remember, while all questions are 'askable', that doesn't mean all questions will be answered. Sometimes the answer is simply, 'that is private', or 'I don't know'. But in this case... what makes you ask the question? Is it just our names?"

"Not really, sir. It's just that... well, when he came over to talk to Warrington and Pucey... well, he sounded just like you. It was weird."

" _Mister_ Warrington, and _Mister_ Pucey, Mr. Potter. Even 'right gits' are called 'mister' here."

"Sorry, sir," Harry smiled.

"It's all right. And to answer your question, yes, Master Constantine and I are most certainly related. Although I am very flattered that given Master Constantine's excellent command of English, you could say we sounded just alike. My accent must be improving dramatically."

"Oh, no, sir. It's not that!" and Harry stopped, realizing a second too late how that exchange could have gone so much better. Again, Pavel had nearly snorted into his tea at Harry's impolitic honesty. He decided he'd best just put it down until they finished talking. He was too likely to have an unfortunate mishap of laughter at the wrong moment. Harry decided that any attempt to make that last statement better, would only make things worse, so he just forged ahead. "It's not a matter of accents, sir. It was more... well, attitude. And... and... I guess it was 'authority'. It's that same 'fear' and 'respect' thing, you mentioned earlier. The both of you may use 'fear' sometimes... like to threaten a detention or something... but you seem to use 'respect' all the time. You, sir, seem to give it and require it all the time. And today, when I saw Master Constantine with all the students, it seemed like the same thing..." his voice trailed off. "I'm sorry, sir. That probably made no sense at all. I don't know exactly how to say what I meant there."

Pavel smiled. "I think you said it very well, Mr. Potter. And I take it as a high compliment, thank you. To answer your question... Yes, John Constantine is my son, Ivan Konstantyn. And it gives me great joy to hear your words about him. Thank you."

 _"Now!"_ Pavel laughed, and banged his hand gently on the table, as he watched to see if Harry flinched when startled, which he did... "What in the world did you want to talk to me about!? It is now half past four, and you've still said nothing about it!"

"Well, sir, I wanted to know if you would teach me..." again, Harry's voice trailed off.

Pavel could feel the waves of anxiety flowing off the boy. They were now approaching the heart of the matter. But Harry would go no further. "Of course, I will teach you, Mr. Potter. You are here twice a week. I don't understand..."

"Not that, sir. Not just history. Would you please teach me... about magic, spells and defending myself against Dark Arts, and how to use my wand properly, or how to duel? I know you know, sir. I don't know how I know, but I'm just certain that there is so much I can learn from you... and I need to learn this."

Pavel sat back and considered, knowing they had sailed rapidly out into very deep waters, indeed. He needed to be incredibly careful and gentle here. The boy was intensely exposed and vulnerable in these moments. "Mr. Potter, I'm not sure how to answer you. Your whole time here at Hogwarts is to teach you about magic. Many of your professors help you with wand-casting. I, among others, will be coaching at the Dueling Club once or twice a week. And you are taking Defense Against the Dark Arts from Professor Lockhart right now. I'm not sure what you want of me."

Harry struggled to keep his composure, but lost the battle... "Come ON, Professor. You know as well as I that Lockhart is a complete waste of space! Don't you know who I am? Don't you know what goes on around me? I'm the precious Boy-Who-Lived that everyone wants a piece of. Right now, half the school thinks I'm the Heir of Slytherin. The Dark Lord is out there somewhere trying to kill me! I'm part of some prophecy or other, and total strangers know more about my life than bloody I DO! I'm just so TIRED of it. I don't know who I can trust, or whether I'm just a pawn in someone's political agenda! I just want somebody to help me learn how to look out after myself. I think you can do that, so I'm asking for your help!" and his eyes filled with tears as he let all this just pour out of him.

The Professor just waited, leaning back in his chair for those moments, eyes closed, pondering and considering. He waited patiently while Harry recovered his composure. He would feel when enough peace was restored for further conversation.

Time passed, they both sat quietly, and eventually the Professor spoke.

"Mr. Potter..." he began...

"Please! Professor... just while we're here... Please, will you just call me Harry? I just want to be 'Harry'," and the pathos in the boy's voice moved Pavel's heart to grief.

"Harry..." he whispered, "First, thank you. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me how you feel. I wish I could make everything better, but that is beyond even my scope. Now, to respond to your requests, do you want the 'simple' answer, or the 'truthful' answer?"

"What's the 'simple' answer, Professor?"

"'Yes'. The simple answer is yes, I can teach you all those things you requested."

Harry took a deep breath as he screwed up his courage, "And the 'truthful' answer, sir?"

"The truthful answer is, 'I don't know'. Can I teach what you ask? Yes, of course I can. But can you learn it? Will it do for you all that you hope? I don't know yet. I need more understanding, I need to know you better.

"I can tell you this for certain, though. For you to learn what I have to teach, you would have to learn to trust. To trust me, to trust yourself, to trust these people around you. I can tell that you don't 'trust', Harry. I can also tell that you've had precious little opportunity or reason to learn trust. I get that.

"But I can assure you of this... To me, you are not the Boy-Who-Lived, but a Boy who Lives! You certainly have a destiny interwoven with the powerful events going on in our times, but it is not your mission to sort all that out yet. You are trying to carry the load of a prophecy on your shoulders, while your task is to enter adolescence as a 12 year old boy. You are there worrying about a Dark Lord trying to take over the world, when you should be worrying about nothing more serious than getting caught playing hooky from school to fish when the trout are running.

"The other big challenge we would have to face is that of 'authority'. You have learned to yield to authority only through fear. You resist rules and obedience because no one in your early life who claimed 'authority' ever fulfilled their part of the bargain. Authority is not supposed to be a stick, or a chain to beat or restrain you. Authority is a relationship with someone who loves you, protects you, provides for you, nurtures and guides you. Obedience, as it matures, should never be a product of fear, but of trust. Respect grows out of mutual regard, mutual trust, and the desire of two people to be pleasing to one another!

"You are incredibly talented, you have superb gifts and a first-class mind. And all this has been in aid of helping you survive as you've had to make your own way emotionally through your life. You have done a superb job raising yourself thus far, Harry. But this will have limits.

"For you to learn what I truly have to teach you, will require your letting go of those limits. You would need to invest truly in trust. You would need to develop an entirely new model of authority and respect in your heart. And that is hard, Harry. When someone has had to become an adult far too soon, it is a heart-wrenching request to ask them to let go and trust.

"I need to think on this, Harry. And so do you. Let me ask you... What adult vocation do you intend to pursue?"

Harry came out of his reverie, as the Professor's words had just rung so true in him it seemed he could hear their echoes in his heart. "Well, sir. I'm not sure, but I think I'd like to be an Auror."

The Professor nodded. "I can see that. All right. I tell you what let's do... We need to think on these things. Let me tell you something about Aurors. I've found there are three kinds of people that try to become Aurors. The first are bullies, who want legally to have the power to control the lives of others. The second are victims, who have been bullied themselves, and want legally to have the power never to be victimized or controlled again. The third are champions, advocates, who seek only the power to protect victims from ever being bullied or controlled.

"I would like you to go, and answer the question, 'Which are you?' Write it up into an essay. Tell me which you are and why, or even some combination if that fits. Then describe what you want to learn from me. What would be your expectations of me, and what should be my expectations for you? Think on these things, Harry. Come back to me with this when you're ready to discuss it. It doesn't matter when. That may be tonight, or a week from now, or a year from now. It's up to you..."

"Thank you for your time and this trust, Harry. You are free to go."

"Thank you, Professor," he replied. But before he stood up, he said, "Professor, remember the question you asked that I wouldn't answer?"

"I do, Harry. It was why you didn't disobey me enough even to let me know that Jeremy was in trouble. If the answer were that you were unwilling to accept my punishment, even for defiance, if that's what it took to protect Jeremy, there would be nothing I could teach you. But I don't believe it was fear of my wrath that stopped you, was it?"

"No, sir. It was just that I didn't think you'd care," Harry's voice thickened as he choked out the words and his eyes welled up. "I'd have tried for him myself, but I thought you'd just use ' _Immobilis_ ' on me, so there was no point."

Pavel nodded. He'd thought it was something like that. "Thank you for telling me that, Harry. I know it was hard. But it is no shame of yours to have believed that. It is shame to the adults who taught you such mistrust. Whatever else this conversation leads to, I'd like you to consider trusting that John and I at least, will _always_ take action to protect an innocent. That is true of many others here, but we'll see if we can grow into that. In the meantime, consider putting a 'rule' in your life, to ALWAYS tell us if an innocent is being victimized, regardless of whatever fear you have.

"I have much to ponder from our talk. As do you. Don't skip supper. I'll see you there, then," and Pavel dismissed Harry as he got up himself to take care of things before the meal.

"Thanks, Professor."

"You're welcome, Harry."


	18. Twilight

**Twilight**

Professor Konstantyn came to the High Table more tired than he had been in this entire trip to Hogwarts. Dueling and healing the night before, sharing the secrets on which their lives depended, a full day of teaching, high speed limited-contact broom racing, absorbing a thrashing as solid as any he'd ever taken as a youth, the intense hour with Potter, and finally expending the energy to heal his injuries... then a quick meeting with the Headmaster to brief him on both the resolution of the bullying encounter, and the discovery of surveillance in the Dark Forest... he was tired. He was bone tired, and hoped intently that he would have until tomorrow before facing Potter again.

He knew he was tired when he was unable to banter with either Minerva or John at the dinner table.

"Would ye like a cushioning charm there, 'afore ye sit, Paul?" she quietly asked, smiling, as Paul began to sit down.

John raised an eyebrow sensing a story worth hearing, as Paul smiled, sat, and said, "thank you, dear lady, quite unnecessary, though the kind sentiment is appreciated. All taken care of, now."

"Really?" asked John, "have I missed something interesting here?"

Rather than have Minerva try to tell the story, and risk it being overheard, Paul quietly explained, "I did a quick healing on Jeremy this afternoon, rather than have him go to the medical wing. I absorbed his injuries, and then took care of it a little while ago. Speaking of which, Minerva, how are our two hoodlums doing? How did they fare with Madame Pomfrey?"

"When Poppy saw the bruising she thought we had a police case on our hands. Good thing I was there. When she asked how in the world this happened as she was gathering all her potions, the first words out of their mouths was 'Professor Konstantyn cast...'. I cut that off right smartly telling them not even to dream of laying this off that way. I told her they'd animated their brooms to thrash a second year, and when you rescued the lad you'd cast _"Turn About Fair Play"_ and decreased its severity. Their injuries were entirely their own doing, but we wanted them to get care and treatment.

"Poppy asked who the second year was, and when I told her it was Jeremy, she was as furious as we were."

"Oh dear. She did take care of them, didn't she?"

"Of course. She applied unguent to all the bruising, there was no broken skin, and made sure the swelling and heat were reducing before they left. She released them with an additional dose they were to apply on their own when they went to bed," Minerva ended, as she served Paul some soup and bread, thinking he looked like he needed some additional bolstering before the entree.

"Any pain potion or cushioning charm?" Paul asked.

"Strange thing, Professor," Minerva answered, "it appears Poppy ran out of Pain Potion right after we identified Jeremy. I think a cushioning charm may have slipped her mind, but she did..." Minerva indicated the two boys entering the Dining Hall as they spoke... "offer them each a pillow to sit on here during Supper."

The boys tried their best to enter inconspicuously, but it was no use, as three-quarters of the room turned their heads to watch them ease their way to a Slytherin table, place their pillows on the bench, and ever so gently step in and ease themselves to their seats. There was no avoiding the smirks on the faces of all their former victims, as they hissed their way incredibly slowly to a fully seated position.

Professor Snape weighed in on the conversation from Minerva's left, saying, "John came to see me about this before Supper, and I've granted him his requested amnesty for them from me. Though really, I don't see why they deserve the consideration."

"I agree, Severus," Minerva nodded. "What they were doing was reprehensible."

"It's not that," Snape commented. "They're _bloody Slytherin's_ for Merlin's sake. They're supposed to be cunning, resourceful, subtle! Where's the subtlety to animating brooms, to beat a child with, under the eyes of six faculty and scores of students all riding _brooms_? What made them think they stood _any_ chance of getting away with this? I wouldn't punish them for picking on the boy. That has been well and truly taken care of. But they certainly could be dealt with for their pitiful planning and pathetic execution. They didn't even have an exit strategy or escape plan! Bloody little fools."

"Thank you, Severus," Paul laughed. "It's always good to assess a situation from an alternative perspective."

Minerva just glowered at them both, as all carried on eating in companionable silence.

Meal finished, pudding being picked at, and coffee and tea being served, Minerva laughed looking over at Paul and saying, "By the way, you may want to avoid the hallways or public spaces for the next few days."

Pavel groaned, "And why is that, dear lady?"

"Well, rumor has it that the Hufflepuff House is trying to have you nominated _Wizard of the Year_ with the Ministry of Magic. They're plotting to do something nice for you - and as yet have no earthly idea what - and over all the first and second years of all the houses together have voted you something like _'Coolest Hero since St. George'_. I have not the vaguest notion what you'll be walking into in class tomorrow. It should be fascinating to see."

Paul just groaned and buried his tired head in his hands with mock weeping, as his son convulsed in laughter alongside him. Taking his life in his hands, John said, "Oh, Papa, I have my Minox mini camera with me. I could come to your class tomorrow and take pictures that we can send back to the office? What do you think?"

"What I think..." Paul said, raising his head from his hands, "is that somebody had best get his operatives out of the Pub in Hogsmeade and patrolling that Forbidden Forest and our perimeter wards, if that somebody doesn't want to be visiting Madame Pomfrey for some more of that ointment to ride their _own_ broom tomorrow."

"Ah..." John nodded, "Already done, Papa... but I will just attend to my teaching and patrolling duties rather than photography tomorrow, I think."

"Good plan, son," Pavel nodded. He watched as Potter got up from the dinner table and walked out of the Great Hall with a determined step. The boy had never looked up in any beckoning way to Paul during the meal, so it seemed safe simply to go to bed for the night, and hope that further developments would wait for tomorrow.

By 9:00 curfew, Herr Professor Doctor Pavel Konstantyn had gratefully closed his apartment door, readied for bed, dropped into it, and was embraced by the arms of Morpheus.


	19. Make a Hole

**Make a Hole  
**

One hour before dawn saw Pavel Konstantyn rise from his slumbers with energy and enthusiasm. Grateful for both his constitution and his recovery resiliency, he felt vastly better than he had the night before. He washed and dressed quickly, deciding to have a check the perimeter and get in a 'morning constitutional' at the same time. Each of the faculty apartments in the residential tower had an outside window, which worked out well for Pavel as he assumed the form in which he most enjoyed flying... that of a bat.

This morning, he chose the species _Pteropus alecto_ , called by some the _black flying fox_... one of his larger available choices, with a wingspan of about a meter, as this would be a quick flyby inspection, and he did not anticipate being observed by any innocent eyes. He flew comparatively low to the ground, not more than 5 meters altitude as he ringed the Hogwarts property, primarily listening for anything that did not belong in the environment.

He observed a raven flying along the wards as well, pleased to see that John was also checking everything before the day began in earnest. He could sense activity in the Forbidden Forest, but between unicorns, centaurs, and who knew what else, it was hard to tell if this were the enemy, his son's operatives, or something totally different. At the Forest's edge, he landed and transformed into wolf, to investigate a bit further. By scent he could only discern John's operatives, dozens of natural smells, and a recent trail of Hagrid's. He noticed some lines of spiders moving through the Forest heading off to the east. All in all, everything seemed as secure as it could be for the moment, so he shifted back into flying fox and headed home. A few feet from his window, he decided to try a "flying shift" into his smallest bat form, the _Kitti's Hog-Nosed Bat_ so that he could enter the window more easily. The shift was done sloppily as he mutated through about six intermediate forms.

 _"Wow, that was a waste of energy, and unsafe as well. I need to add some drill on that to my day's practice," he mentally noted to himself. "I'm glad John didn't see that, or I'd not hear the end of it."_

He collected his thoughts for the day, donned his academic attire, and joined the school for breakfast in the Great Hall. Since there was a private corridor and stairwell leading to the Great Hall's Head Table from the residential tower, he did not encounter any students along the way. Sitting between Minerva and John as he poured his morning coffee, he had that prickling sensation on the back of his neck that indicated something was up. He noticed that the two of them seemed to be trying far too hard to be casual, but sensing that the issue was mischief not danger he determined to let matters play out.

Messrs Warrington and Pucey again entered as inconspicuously as possible, and still brought their pillows with them. Pavel slowly shook his head in compassion, as he watched them seat themselves more easily than last night, but still gingerly, indeed. He realized they'd need those cushions for their classes throughout the day. Wooden desks and bench seats were no more forgiving than the Dining Hall.

"Do those two have Transfiguration today, Minerva?" he asked, looking towards Warrington and Pucey. "Any chance you might throw them a random cushioning charm?"

"Aye, they have me for first period today, and no, their chances for that are about the same as a blizzard in the underworld. They've earned every wince, Paul."

"I don't deny that, dear lady. But let us bear in mind that such behavior is ' _taught_ ', not ' _hatched_ '. Somewhere along the line, they've been on the receiving end of all that bullying, and this is a fruit. The fact that their actions are quite their own responsibility, does not mean that the situation is entirely their fault. Our task is redemptive and restorative, not just retributive."

"Why, Paul? Who expected ethical philosophy at this hour of the morning. And for a man who so cultivates his image of the 'martinet' and 'disciplinarian' in class as you do... by golly, you're sounding downright..." Minerva struggled to find the right word or phrase to connote "squishy" without saying that.

"I've already been cautioned by a student, Minerva, that I run the risk of being considered 'warm and fuzzy'..."

"PERFECT!" she hooted, drawing some startled looks from neighbors, who'd not heard the conversation, "Oh, excuse me, sorry," she had the grace to blush a bit. Lowering her voice she continued, "just the words I needed, Paul. I do believe you may be getting 'warm and fuzzy' in your... maturity."

"Just what I needed to hear, kind lady," he bowed as he stood to make his way to his office and classroom to prepare for the day. He could feel that "something was up" as he noticed a number of the other teachers stand and try inconspicuously to follow him out of the Dining Hall. Students had been drifting in and out throughout the meal, breakfast being quite informal, so it was typical that the hallways were cluttered with gaggles of students here and there chatting and carrying on before heading to their first period.

It was not unusual to deal with a careless jostle here or there, need an "excuse me" from time to time to get past a small traffic jam, or even a loud "no running there, Mr./Ms. Whoever-it-was", when heading to the staircase up to his classroom. What WAS unusual was for first and second year students to hear the taps on the heels of his boots strike the stone walkways, snag their companions' arms, and assume a brace of attention at the side walls, clearing the walkway until he had passed by.

Clearly, someone conspiratorial had an elder brother or sister in the military. Every four years he taught colloquia or symposia in the military and naval academies of Great Britian, Russia, Germany, France, and the United States, on Military History and Strategy, and/or the Magic thereof. He joined their faculties for two months at a time on these teaching tours, training both muggles and magicians. This "stand aside" behavior was typical and traditional courtesy in those venues for faculty in the halls, and he understood it for the gesture of respect it was intended to be. So, rather than stop and stare, object, or make a big issue of any kind, he simply walked on and, upon turning or leaving the corridor, said quietly, "Thank you, please carry on." He would receive the tribute with the grace in which it was offered, and respond with grateful courtesy.

As classes began, he saw that today would be unusual in that when he exited his office to step in to the lecture hall, one entire side of the classroom... the Gryffindor side... rose from their desks, stood at attention, and intoned in perfect unison... "Good morning, sir." He bid them be seated as he came down the few steps to the lecture pit and decided this would change the topic of lecture for the day. In fact, since this was his "Griffindor/Slytherin day" and Monday would be his "Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff", he'd go ahead and adjust his lesson plans for both days. The Gryffindors were glaring at the Slytherins for not rising... well, that and general principles, of course.

This began a general discussion on the genesis and triggering of wars; the relationship between aggression and vulnerability; the difference between aggressors, victims and survivors; the relationship among security, insecurity, and violence; and issues of solidarity, scapegoating, demonization, and bigotry. _Now, if you had told any of them they'd learn all of that in history today, they'd have rolled their eyes thinking... "Maaan, what a boring class THAT's gonna be!"_ when, in fact, the discussion was so lively the Professor worked hard to keep it civil and contained without having to chill the enthusiasm by applying discipline.

It surprised everyone that the Professor was not irritated or disappointed that Slytherin had not stood, but rather praised them for that. They showed "solidarity" and "support" for their two house members who were injured the day before. They were not going to rise in honor of the person they held responsible for the injury to their house brother. That was right and proper, and he gave each of them house points for that.

Under the category "no unaskable questions", it was a Slytherin who asked what hex he had used on the boys. He answered that it was not a hex, simply a neutral charm called "Turn About Fair Play", and he described what it did. He pointed out that if they'd handed Jeremy an ice cream cone, or patted him on the back encouragingly, that's exactly what they would have experienced. It was not a hex or curse.

The follow up question was whether he would teach it to them. This he refused, saying his was not a charm-casting course, but History of Magic. They could inquire of their Charms Professor, Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, or even their Heads of House, but it was not his place to teach them that spell. He would point out, however, that it was one of a family of spells in the Karma line, and they could probably research it with a little effort on their own.

He was impressed when the fourth year section had class, and Mr. Warrington and Mr. Pucey entered on time, placed their pillows, and sat with dignity, heads held high. He conducted the same class, and answered pretty much the same questions the same way, throughout the entire day. But, as the fourth year section was the class period immediately preceding lunch, he had a bit of extra time to work with after that class. As the class was dismissed, he said, "Mr. Warrington and Mr. Pucey, please join me in my office a moment." They rolled their eyes anticipating a "lecture". Well, they were both right, and wrong.

The Professor came in, sat at his desk and invited them to sit in the chairs opposite him.

"With respect, sir," the quieter, and more polite of the two volunteered, "we'd rather stand if that's all right." The other just glared silently.

"I completely understand, gentlemen. But please trust me, and sit," he said, gently.

They put their pillows down on the seats, grabbed the chair arms to support themselves to settle down...

"None of that will be necessary, gentlemen. Check it out."

And as they settled their weight, they found there was no discomfort at all. They had seen in the morning, when they changed, that there was no more visible sign of their injuries. But the soreness, the tenderness was certainly still a problem, and the stiffness in their legs and the backs of their legs had been more pronounced than the day before. Like so many muscle injuries, there's often discomfort generated from the healing itself, that isn't there initially. They could not keep from smiling, and slumping in their seats with contented sighs for a moment, even as the Professor pottered, fussing with some papers to give them that stress-free moment.

In less than a minute, they recollected themselves, and eyed the Professor suspiciously. He'd done this terrific thing for them... so... what was in it for him? There had to be a catch. The Professor chuckled as he looked up at them, they were so transparent and easy to read. He knew what they expected. They'd be surprised.

"Right, gentlemen. So now you expect the big sermon, no? The lecture, followed by the appeal to your better natures, and my request for some pledge of reform? So you can assure me of your rehabilitation and go on your way. Have I got that right?" his facial expression so matter-of-fact and bland, they didn't know what to say. That was _exactly_ what they'd expected. They knew exactly how to handle that, sound contrite and reformed, and leave as "whole new boys". They'd done it a million times, teachers, parents, caretakers...

"All of that would be a complete waste of time, and I have precious little time to waste on foolishness. I simply want to say a couple things, then make you an offer, then let you go on to lunch and live your lives. First, you are bullies, you know that. You derive satisfaction from taking power from those weaker than yourself, and making them fear you. Second, you have learned that behavior. Third, you are even now being bullied here at Hogwarts. Maybe it's a 7th year, or a 6th, but some one or someones victimize you on a regular basis." He watched them drop their eyes looking down, verifying his statement, though he needed no such affirmation. "Don't worry, I'm not going to ask who it is. I do not care, and it is not my business. Further, you are, or have been, bullied and tormented at home... maybe a parent, an uncle, older brothers, someone. Again, I'm not asking. I don't care, it's not my business.

"But here is what IS my business... You... gentlemen... you are my business. I do not permit bullying or torture of students... not in my presence, not in my purview - under my authority or within my scope. I now know that you pose this risk to other students, and you will not be permitted to persist in this behavior while I am here. Whether your attitude changes or not is quite irrelevant. You will not be able to continue victimizing students here, do you realize this?

"Yes, sir," they both replied.

"Good, now I have three questions for you, and I need an honest reply. Nothing bad will happen based on what you tell me, understand? Full amnesty on this, simply because I need to know, all right?

"Okay..." they answered cautiously, not knowing what information he wanted.

"Have you beaten other students the way you were hurting Jeremy yesterday?"

They did not expect this question, and didn't know what to say. Ordinarily, they'd just follow their general rule, "deny, deny, deny". But it seemed really hard to lie to this old man. They hesitated...

"Please speak truth. Nothing bad will happen to you, I just need to be told the truth here..."

"Yes, sir," the littler one whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Fine, now I just want to know, after what you've been through since yesterday, did either of you have ANY idea, that you would cause those youngsters, whoever they are, that much pain? Is it what you MEANT to do, in a conscious, intentional, way?"

Pavel was surprised to hear Mr. Pucey, the larger of the two, take the lead here, "No sir! We didn't know, really. We was just doin' this for a laff', ya know? 'Twas just a giggle. We didn't know it hurt like this! No' really..."

"And yet you know how painful it is when you're picked on and beaten up, yes?"

"Well... yeah..." he looked down, "but that's different, ya know?" and as he looked up his eyebrows slanted in a sincere expression of befuddlement.

Konstantyn knew that such illogic was perfectly possible for children, and even adults, in situations of victimization like this. This decided him.

"Very well, then I'm going to make an offer to the two of you," and he opened a desk drawer and drew out two "coins" with large runes inscribed on both sides, and smaller ancient script written all around the edges. He placed each coin in front of the boys, and instructed that they not touch them, yet. "If you wish, I will stop you from being bullied. These medals carry a form of the "Turn About" charm on them. They have a sticking, and release, charm on them as well. All you have to do is place the medal somewhere on your body, like under a watch or bracelet, or on your chest like a medallion, and say 'stick' and it will remain there until you say 'release'. They cannot be 'lost', they will find you if misplaced. If you wear these, then any violence or assault committed against you will rebound onto the aggressor, and I will be informed that they are activated as well. If someone attempts to assault you in some morally reprehensible way, such that simple rebound is inappropriate, then alarms of light and sound will go off, and I will be summoned to apparate to wherever the medallion is."

The boys' eyes had grown big as saucers as he spoke, staring at the coins, realizing what they could do. He remained silent for a moment or two, allowing the implications of his offer to sink in. They could be freed from fear of assault that up to now they'd thought impossible to escape.

"Is this of interest to you?"

"Wow, seriously? Oh, sir, that would be incredible," Mr. Warrington volunteered.

"What's the catch?" Mr. Pucey asked, clearly not one with much confidence in kindness.

Pavel smiled, "The 'catch', Mr. Pucey, is simply that it works both ways. Should you engage in bullying or intimidating others, the charm will rebound on you, and/or I shall be made aware of a situation to be addressed. And let me assure you, I will and do address such situations."

Both boys laughed at that, as without realizing it, they reached back for the first time in his observation, to rub their recently relieved bums. "Yes, sir. We've GOT that part."

He smiled as he nodded and said, "Very well then. This is available for you if you choose to take the offer. If you touch the coin, it will be keyed to you and you alone. It will obey you as to 'stick' and 'release' and it will find you if you misplace it. Touching this coin will constitute a binding magical contract, meaning that you accept my terms and will thereafter come under my protection regarding this and only this matter.

"This is not a 'get out of jail free' coin. If you are justly punished or chastised by a parent or authority, this will do nothing for you. This will not affect 'bullying' that is of your interpretation only... that is, it will not help you with Mr. Filch, or should you feel picked on unfairly by Professor Snape or another member of staff. This will not aid you if you enter into consensual combat with another student whether or not they are bigger than you. If you throw the first punch, or you goad them into it, you have a 'fight', not an episode of bullying.

"Is there anything else you want to know about this arrangement before you decide?"

"No, sir," said Mr. Pucey.

"No, sir," repeated Mr. Warrington.

"Very well then, gentlemen. What shall it be?" and Pavel sat back to wait wearing an expression of supreme indifference on his face.

Both boys reached out and picked up the coins, which glowed and warmed in their hands as they held them. Pavel watched them reach up their sleeves, place the medallions, and stay "Stick!", and grin broadly as their hands came back down the sleeve empty.

"And now, gentlemen, you may go. I trust my 'sermon' has not been unduly boring?" as he made himself look busy sorting parchments.

"Not hardly, sir," as they got up, put their bags over their arms, and picked up their cushions.

"You may leave the cushions if you wish. I can return them to Madame Pomfrey..." and he was puzzled to see the boys hesitate, and then chat quietly between themselves. He chose not to eavesdrop, though it would have been all too easy. He was more curious what they were going to say.

"Sir?" Mr. Pucey said, "if it's all the same with you, we figure we'll go ahead and use the cushions this afternoon at least. It's a little embarrassing, sure, but... it really gives a charge to all the little blighters we picked on, and we figure... well, considering everything... um... well, we owe them at least that much satisfaction. Does that make sense, sir? I dunno how to explain it."

"You've explained it fine, Mr. Pucey. Very well then, I admire that choice from both of you. Twenty points to Slytherin, each... for your expression of fairness and character. Well done. Now... off with you both! Lunchtime! Begone, waifs!" as his voice raised in good natured shouting as he shoo'ed them on their way.

 _As he watched them break into a run when they thought they were beyond his sight, he smiled, musing,"well, it's a start at least. They think they've turned over a new leaf and it'll all be fine from here. And, indeed, the leaf is definitely turned. But years of picking on those weaker than themselves, those habits of intimidation and the little dark thrill of seeing someone afraid of what you can do to them... that's an addiction, a dark pleasure, that doesn't disappear overnight." He'd be seeing them again, as those medals kicked in to warn them when they were approaching or crossing a guard rail into territory where they did not belong. But if they could become just as addicted to light, to rescue, to servanthood as tyranny... well, it certainly had to be worth the effort, wasn't it? He thought so... he'd been doing this for 40 years now, and he still thought so._


	20. When the Closet Opens

**When the Closet Opens**

At 4:00, the Second Year section, Gryffindor/Slytherin met for History of Magic. This class began as all the others of the day had, with Gryffindors rising and greeting him, and Slytherin not. The teaching content for the day had the same adjustments made from the first period. Volunteers, eligible for house points, were appointed at the beginning of class to see to errands, chores, or any diorama support that may be needed. Homework and assignments - required or extra-credit - were collected at the beginning of class.

This day, Professor Konstantyn noted that Harry turned in a parchment. During discussion, the Professor made his way up to his desk and took a quick look through what had been turned in, to find that Harry had answered his questions with a completed essay.

When class finished he said, "Mr. Potter, a moment please." He went up the stairs to his desk and skimmed through Harry's essay, just to be certain that he had addressed all the issues necessary. Finding that to be so, he asked, "Have you homework to do tonight, or any exams or preparation for tomorrow?"

"No, sir, not really."

"Very well. Can you come meet me here after Supper, say, 7:00?"

"Yes, sir, I can."

"Fine. Feel free to wear comfortable clothes, and be sure you have your wand."

"You bet, sir!" Harry enthused delightedly.

"Good. We shall see what you know, and how to get started. Thank you... Harry... I'll see you after Supper then."

"Thanks, Professor!" he grinned, as he headed out for the stairs.

Pavel sat down and carefully read over his essay. There was a critical element in it that Harry had answered correctly. It was surprising that being so young, this child had such good analytical skills and self awareness. He was also astonishingly honest, which Pavel had already discovered.

He was to determine for which of Pavel's three reasons did he want to become an Auror? The Professor had said, _"I've found there are three kinds of people that try to become Aurors. The first are bullies, who want legally to have the power to control the lives of others. The second are victims, who have been bullied themselves, and want legally to have the power never to be victimized or controlled again. The third are champions, advocates, who seek only the power to protect victims from ever being bullied or controlled."_

There was certainly a great deal of Harry and his heart that were of the third class. He was an innate protector, courageous, generous, and brash. However - and this was critical - there was also a healthy dose of the second motivation present. If he was aware of this, willing to confront and embrace this truth, he could resolve and rise above it. But if it remained hidden, if it were repressed and defended against by simple denial, then it would gain strength like a festering cyst, until it became toxic and dangerous within him.

This essay made it clear that Harry recognized that he had a deep resentment of bullies because he had been bullied. But he did not include any specifics. Here was Pavel's starting point. Here was the thread that Pavel could gently grasp and tug on, until little by little Potter's carefully woven architecture of isolation and independence was unraveled, deconstructed, and leveled. Only once this lonely ersatz identity was recognized by Harry as being a _"false self"_ , could he truly begin to regenerate, heal in heart, and grow an infinitely more secure and powerful _"real self"_.

But Pavel knew only too well, how painful, how dark and lost-feeling, this journey could be. He was going to challenge Harry to let go of all his anchors. And the only way he could do that in good conscience, was with the awareness and commitment that he would be with him, stay with him, guide and protect him floating in that dark space, until he found his light and new anchors to secure himself.

This was the work of years, not months or weeks. _Was he, Pavel, willing to do this? To take on this commitment? Was he able? Could he do this? Finish this? He believed so. This boy had so much Fate wrapped around him, threads of magical and destiny's gravity, so dense how could poor Harry feel anything BUT that sense of strangulation he expressed earlier? Pavel had thought this through deeply for a considerable time, even before coming here. If he knew anyone, anyone else better suited to accompany this boy..._

But Harry represented a singularity, a nexus of multiple supernatural currents, each incredibly powerful and potentially deadly in themselves, but combined in Harry like a Perfect Storm. _First_ there was Potter's intensely powerful magical core. He was capable of such facility with his magic, so quick to pick it up, so intense in its use, even wandless. _Second_ was the fact that Harry had so many intense threads of Fate woven through and around him. His linkages and destiny with regard to Voldemort are simply an inseparable part of him. But _third_ , this third element that could look so trivial to others, his lack of attachment. He was a child, with dangerous capacities, who had come to this point, the brink of adolescence, with only his own autonomy and personal moral compass to steer by. His parents had, thankfully, embued him with love and their intense dedication to the right and the good, even as they died with him in his cradle. Now, these years at Hogwarts were renewing those values and inculcating him with this moral code of the sacredness of all. But how much of all that was adulterated, eroded, undermined by the constant sense of betrayal and inconsistency of his nuclear family? His "foster family"?

That whole period, fundamentally his entire childhood, had to be passed through for his maturation to progress without malformation. He had to learn to attach and connect on a fundamental trusting basis with others. Not just for Harry's sake alone. Oh no. The stakes were much higher here. Fate had made it clear, the wizarding world apparently had one of two alternative fates... Voldemort, or Harry. Should Harry triumph over Voldemort, develop all the fullness of the capacities his magic will make available, and sail on forward in life with all those Fate threads anchored to him _WITHOUT ever surrendering_ his own will, his own autonomy, to the sense of the moral imperative... Should he fail to develop true attachment, and with it empathy, the mutual accountability of community... Harry could well BECOME the next Dark Lord. There would be little to stop him.

Well, on the up side, at least Fate seemed to have put all the right resources in place. The right people, in the right place, at the right time, with the right resources.

 _"So now," Pavel thought, "let us just see how this all comes together."_

And he left for supper. After that, he'd see what he would see.

* * *

Harry Potter arrived promptly at 7:00 to find his classroom altogether changed. All the risers were gone, creating just a large flat floor where all the desks and "classroom stuff" had been. In the middle of the room there was now a dueling lane. At the end of the lane there was a practice dummy, a large wooden mannequin holding a wand. The figure was on a spring core, and made of segments that could swivel.

Professor Konstantyn stood off to the side wearing no robes, just his shirt, trousers, and boots, with a white padded waistcoat. Harry recognized the garment as "dueling armor", an enhanced vest that with a high absorption factor that would reduce the chance of injury when dueling. The Professor pointed up the stairs to the level where his desk still sat, where Harry saw another vest hanging on a stand... this one in black sporting the Gryffindor crest and trimmed out in scarlet and gold piping.

"Is that..." Harry couldn't believe it, "is that for me?"

"It is. Go put it on. Consider it 'safety equipment'. Put it on, and come over here."

Harry gleefully donned the vest and secured it, seeing that it had a raised collar, like a military tunic that would protect much of the throat and neck, and it was double breasted, so the front of the body had doubled protection. It had magical fasteners along the seams, so he didn't even have to fuss with buttons, snaps, or zippers. There was an inner panel secured to the waist in front, to be tucked into the trousers to protect the abdomen and genitals from frontal damage. When Harry presented himself the the Professor, Pavel had him turn 360 degrees, and waved his wand to fit the garment perfectly for Harry's form. He had him bend and touch his toes, windmill his arms, and place his hands atop his head.

"That may all seem silly, Harry, but you have to have freedom of movement, and I made small adjustments to the fit in each of those positions. Now, does anything feel too tight, too loose, or like it pinches or chafes?"

"No, sir. It really doesn't feel like I'm wearing it. Or, maybe like it's a hug... it feels like an extra layer of skin."

"Good. That's how it should feel. Good. Over time I will show you how to maintain that, repair it if necessary, and take care of it. That will be your responsibility now, agreed?"

"Yes, sir. You bet."

"All right... Just one more thing now that it is fitted properly," and with a wave of his wand, the name _POTTER_ appeared on the right side of his chest, where a pocket would be if he had one. "This garment will refuse to be worn by anyone else now."

"Wow, Professor. Thanks so much. I've never had anything custom fitted for me... ever."

"Well, let's see what you can do with it. Stand 10 paces away from the practice dummy and show me what defensive and disarming spells you know. Disarm the mannequin."

Harry was a bit confused and more than a little perturbed to find that while attempting _"Expelliarmus!"_ he could get a spark of force to hit the dummy's wand, and even shift it back a few inches, he was not succeeding in disarming it. The wand remained securely in its holder on the dummy. "I don't understand, Professor. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. This should work!"

"Passion is what motivates many spells, this one included. You must be 'pumped', so to speak, to disarm an opponent you urgently want to be wandless. It is hard to generate that energy on an inanimate object. Let's try this..." and he summoned his staff and struck it into the floor as he did to sustain a diorama. "Now Harry, imagine that you are standing there opposite someone you truly want to duel. Someone you really want to fight. Project that person, your image or ' _imago_ ' of that person, to my staff."

Harry had no problem complying with this order, as Draco Malfoy immediately leapt to mind. He focused on the staff near the training mannequin, and saw the dummy transform into the likeness of Malfoy. When the transition was complete, the Professor said, "Now try again. Disarm Mr. Malfoy."

That change made all the difference. Suddenly, Harry's wand projected confident power as his voice had taken on an entirely new timbre while he declared the spell. Malfoy's wand shot from his hand like it had been fired from a pistol.

"Good," Pavel praised, as he animated the Malfoy figure to stand and move in a realistic fashion on his end of the lane. "Try immobilizing, or binding... use containment spells here, and see how it goes."

Harry obeyed, in rapid succession effectively leg-locking, stupefying, immobilizing, and petrifying the artificial Malfoy.

"Very good. Now, let's see how you are with defensive and blocking spells. The mannequin is going to fire a low power stinging hex at you. If it connects, it will hurt but do no damage, and it will not numb or impede the body part struck. It will just hurt, about like getting firmly slapped. You don't want to let it hit you. Ready?"

"Ready, sir. Let's go!" Potter answered enthusiastically.

The mannequin started with a casting frequency of about one cast every five seconds, and then gradually accelerated. Nothing got through to Potter, even when the mannequin got up to one second intervals.

"Right. Now, rather than being in a steady rhythm, the intervals will be random, and the pace will be faster. This is still just blocking. Ready?"

"Yes, sir. Ready!"

Again, Harry handled things very well, blocking everything that came his way even in intervals as low as half a second.

"OK, Harry. I read your essay, and I understand that you've known bullying in your life." He watched Harry stiffen at his words. "It's all right, don't get tense about it. I don't want to 'talk it out', which I suspect is your concern, is it not?"

Harry laughed, "Actually, yes it was."

"No, Harry. I want to do something you may well find far more fun than that. Rather than Malfoy, make the mannequin into a bully you've experienced, that you would love to meet on a dueling lane with your wand in your hand."

Harry grinned ear to ear, and Pavel watched his training mannequin turn in to Dudley Dursley. As Dudley stood there with the mannequin's wand in his hand, Pavel turned to Harry with an inquiring look.

Harry read the expression, nodded and saluted, saying, "I'm ready, sir. Let's go."

Just as before, Harry blocked Dudley's attacks, but this time, the Professor let the drill continue longer, and let the speed increase, though he cut down the force of the hex so that if he were hit, Harry would only be aware that he had been touched, no pain. Pavel was reading Harry's emotions, looking for the transition from nervousness or satisfied exertion into anger. Harry was effectively projecting the image of this nemesis, but he was not yet projecting the emotions. After two minutes, Pavel stopped so that Harry could take a break and catch his breath.

Then... "OK, Harry. Now, this time not just blocking but offensive spells also. Nothing unforgiveable, but if you know spells that are not otherwise permissible here, but not illegal... they are fair game. Who is this, by the way?"

"Oh, him? That's Dudley. Dudley Dursley, the cousin I live with outside of Hogwarts."

"Ah, good to know." _And Pavel thought, "Excellent. We've gotten to the family at home now. Just a little bit further..."_

Pavel activated Dudley, and Harry stood back to get a feel for how his opponent was going to cast. The training dummy Dudley was, of course, considerably more coordinated than the genuine article. He was also becoming faster, a bit more skilled in his casting. Soon the exchange was a series of rapid flashing of hexes reacting with blocks and shields.

Without interrupting the flow, Pavel shouted... "Give us sound, Harry. What would Dudley be saying? What would he be shouting at you?"

And in a matter of seconds, the Dudley-quin began spewing his vehement toxicity at Harry. _"You're a FREAK, Potter. You've got no friends that aren't freaks just like you. No wonder you have to be sent away to a mental institution school for disturbed kids. Stupid orphan, why do you have to live HERE with normal people. Just 'cause my mum, was sisters with your dead freak of a mum, I have to be saddled with YOU!"_ And Dudley would cast a hex to punctuate his insults.

 _Now, Pavel noticed... Now, the anger came. Harry's face was reddening, his frequency and strength were increasing. His passion was beginning to flow through his wand. But even so, Pavel could feel, we still weren't there yet. This was certainly A bully... but this was not yet THE bully._ Then suddenly, Harry cried out in rage as he blocked a cast, then disarmed Dudley, then immobilized him... stood staring at him for a good 10 seconds - which is a huge amount of time in dead stillness - then narrowed his eyes, pointed his wand, and cold-bloodedly cast, _"Confringo"_. Whereupon Dudley exploded. The concussion knocked him sailing 10 feet back.

He had been entirely "in the moment" when that happened, and only recovered his sense of where he was as he picked himself back up. "Professor, I'm so sorry..." he began.

Pavel just shook his head dismissively, cast _"Scourgify"_ , then _"Reparo"_ , and the mannequin was back in place with everything back in order. "Are you recovered, Mr. Potter? We are not quite finished yet. Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, more than a little confused. He thought he'd be in trouble, but clearly that was not the case.

"Good. Now... I want you to bring to the mannequin whoever it is that you MOST want to see there. You've seen what you could do with Dudley. Now, knowing all of that, bring the mannequin back to life as whoever is even worse!"

It was a heady mix Potter was imbibing here right now. Wish-fulfillment. The satisfaction of years of what muggles call "magical thinking". How many times had he dreamed, fantasized, desperately wanted Uncle farking Vernon Dursley at the business end of his wand?

Harry took is position, and focused on bringing Uncle Vernon to the staff, and thus to the training dummy. And he thought this would be wonderful, and he'd be able to unload on Uncle Vernon like he just had on Dudley. But something strange happened, or was happening. Uncle Vernon became the mannequin, all right, but he kept growing. Somehow he'd gotten twice as tall as Harry. Harry froze in his tracks, dropped his wand, and cowered down on the floor. Uncle Vernon was coming for him, and Uncle Vernon was enraged about something.

 _Pavel realized they had gotten to the right place, but this was not where they needed to stay right now. On the other hand, if he simply pulled Harry out of here and dissolved this, resolution could become much more difficult. There was a third option. Pavel "froze" the scene. Vernon was still there, bigger than life - literally - and Harry was on the floor, but all action and sound had stopped. Pavel was going to put Harry back in control of this._

He walked over to the youngster and knelt beside him. Harry's hands and arms were up over his head as he tried to curl into a tight ball to protect himself. Gently... ever so gently... Pavel said, "Mr. Potter... Harry... it's all right. Look, look at me. It's Professor Konstantyn, you're in my classroom, and nothing will hurt you here. Look at me."

Slowly, carefully, Harry lowered his hands and arms, looked at Pavel with tears of terror in his eyes. "Don't let him get me, Professor. Please, I'll be good. I'm not a freak. I can't help it."

"He'll not get you, my boy. He'll never 'get you' again. Stand up, can you?" and Pavel supported the boy's arm as he stood. The "scene", Dursley walking towards Harry, was frozen in mid-step. Pavel said, gently, "Harry, you are in charge of this diorama. You are in control here. Nothing can hurt you here. Now, can you hold my hand, knowing I will let nothing happen to you, and look at Dursley?"

His pulse was racing, his breath in ragged gasps as he still struggled with his fear. But he held tightly to the Professor's hand and turned to look at his uncle there, frozen as if encased in ice.

"Good, Harry. Now calm yourself, realize that you are in control here, and let us walk past that image into my office for a little bit, ok?" Harry nodded and, still holding Pavel's hand, walked to the steps up to his office without quickening his steps from his fear.

The Professor walked them over to the comfortable chairs and table near the fireplace, summoned Wilfried, and asked for some hot chocolate and tea for himself, along with some biscuits. When that arrived, he summoned a bottle of calming draught from his medicine cabinet. As he poured the cup of chocolate, he asked Harry's permission to add some of the calming draught, and did so as Harry nodded.

Pavel then said, I know that at this moment memories of that man bullying you are right at the top of your mind. I would like your permission to see some of those memories, so that I can assure you never have to go through anything like that again. Is that all right with you? They will become evidence we will use to make sure you have a safer living situation than you did before. All right?"

Harry nodded again.

"No, Harry. I need you to look at me, and tell me this is OK with you. I don't want to startle you, or have you feel something unexpected or unwanted is happening. I never use this kind of mind magic without clear consent."

Harry smiled, "Thank you, Professor. I understand, and yes, it's all right to see these memories. I've never been able to share them with anyone else before. It's always been 'my secret'."

"I understand, Harry. Just relax, and you will sense me entering your space, and you can take my hand and guide me to and through scenes at your discretion. OK?"

"Sure, Professor."

 _Pavel spent 20 minutes gently walking through scene after scene of Harry's conflicts with the Dursley's. He was able to frame the experience for Harry as if they were looking through a window into the house or room where the drama played out, so that he experienced this sharing more as a third party observer, rather than the victim. It was all there... all the abuse, violence of mindless rage at episodes of accidental magic, beatings - always vented anger, never actual training, malnourishment, isolation, abandonment, unlawful confinement, neglect. And that didn't even touch the emotional abuse, or exploitation of Harry as child labor. Pavel knew that a particular scene was his last one he would witness - and therefore record, or he would no longer be able to contain his own temper, when Harry was severely beaten with a strap and then thrown into his locked cupboard for days, because he had attained Honor Roll recognition on his report card, while Dudley barely passed. Pavel could not endure another scene, and knew this was more than sufficient, so he thanked Harry and gently withdrew from his mind._

"That was very well done, Harry," Pavel said. "Thank you."

"That didn't hurt at all, Professor... Hey... I have a question," the boy interrupted himself.

"What's that, young man?" Pavel marveled at the lad's resiliency.

"Can you teach me that, too? What you just did?"

"Perhaps, young Potter. Perhaps. We shall have to see where all your talents lie over time," Pavel laughed. For now, I think we have 'worked' hard enough. How about doing something you may find more fun?"

"Sure, what's that?"

"Let's play a little game. Have you ever seen the muggle arcade game _'Whack-a-Mole' or 'Duck Hunt'_?" he asked, getting up and heading back to the classroom. As he did, he reset the room to neutral. Dursley wasn't there, because the mannequin had been removed. Now there was only the lane and his staff. Harry shook his head. "Well that's all right. Here's what I want to do. You stand at that far end, and I am going to start from at this end. We are not going to duel," he added quickly as Harry started to look concerned. "I am going to transform into my animagus form, and I want you to try to body bind, stupefy, or immobilize me. You will not hurt me, I promise. I will wear a shield that will allow me no pain. But I warn you, I am very fast. I am going to try to move up the lane to this perch..." as he pulled a matchstick from his pocket and transfigured it into what looked like a parrot perch on a stand, and set it in the middle of the lane, where duelists start their pacing. "I want you to stop me by any kind of immobilization. OK? Succeed, and Gryffindor gains 10 points."

"And if I lose?" Harry asked, smiling but canny.

"Then you get to try again. Let's see if you can make those points in the next 10 minutes. After that, I think we should retire for the evening. Now remember, once I transform I can still understand you, but I cannot speak in a way you'll understand, so you'll be on your own from there."

"OK"

Pavel walked to his end of the lane, and transformed into a bat of medium size. He hovered for a moment, to let Harry adjust to what he was watching - since had have given Harry no clue as to his form - and began dodging his way up the lane a few feet at a time. The boy was good. His casts were clean and quick. He didn't waste energy or try broad sweeping clouds. A couple times he came very close indeed. But, on the first run, Pavel got to the perch unscathed.

As soon as he landed, Harry lowered his wand. A sign of good manners, so Pavel flew back to his starting line. This time, Harry was quicker, so Pavel had to be as well. Again, he made the "Finish Perch" without getting hit. He was pleased to see, and "feel", that while Harry wanted to win and was a bit frustrated with himself at the moment, his energy was not invested in getting angry, he was trying to "work out a solution" instead.

Third run, as Pavel had covered half his distance to the perch, Harry cast _"Aqua Eructo!"_ and sprayed a hosepipe worth of water down the lane. Being far more area-of-effect than a targeted bolt, this caught Pavel square in the chest with what was effectively a tidal wave in mid-air. Unable, by the rules of combat to leave the lane to evade, this spout of water just slapped him down like he'd slap a fly. Knocked to the ground and drenched, his mobility was dreadfully impaired, and Harry caught him dead to rights with an _"Immobilis!"_

Pavel lay there on the floor... wet... cold... petrified... and vaguely embarrassed. Harry had the cheek to walk up to him, look down at his frozen furry form, and say, "Professor, you have no idea how much I wish I had a camera right now!" However, the youngster also had the good grace to point his wand with, _"Finite Incantatem"._..

Whereupon Pavel instantly transformed himself back into Professorial splendor to announce, "Ten points to Gryffendor!" And with a sweep of his wand, the room was dried and set to rights again. "Now off with you, young Potter. Enjoy what is left of your evening, and see me again tomorrow at this same time. We shall have matters to discuss then."

"Yes, sir. And thanks ever so much for letting me knock you down, try to drown you, and paralyze you. That was great!" as Harry laughed merrily.

 _"Out, Mr. Potter!"_ Pavel laughed in return shouting in mock irritation as he turned towards his office. He had hoped that that last exercise would speed Harry's recovery from the earlier unpleasantness. He thought it highly probable that Harry's dreams would more likely be of winning that last duel, rather than the nightmares of Privet Drive.

Going into his office, he immediately drew out the memories of Harry's home life, bottled them, removed his armor and changed into informal robes, heading for the Senior Common Room hoping to find Minerva, John, and Severus there.

 _Pavel had a proposal to make..._


	21. The Chickens Come Home to Roost

Fortune smiled upon Professor Konstantyn as he entered the Senior Common Room to find his quarry sitting peacefully in the chairs near the fireplace. He suspected that they may have, in fact, been "lying in wait", knowing that he was assessing Potter this evening. He'd not said a great deal about it, but had mentioned the earlier encounters and that he was following up. He sat down and Minerva asked if he'd like tea, as she rose to pour him a cup.

He held up his hand saying, "One moment, Professor McGonagall. Rather than that, as it is nearing 9:00 and I know you and Professor Snape frequently visit your house Common Rooms before curfew, may I suggest that you go ahead and do that... see to it that all is well... and let me see if Albus is available to meet with us in his office at 9? I believe we all have something to discuss."

His serious demeanor and tone set all of Minerva's senses on the alert. "Is Harry all right? Is something wrong? What has happened?"

Pavel nodded and smiled a bit tiredly. "In order, kind lady, the answers to your questions are: 'Yes', 'Yes', and 'That's what we need to discuss with Albus.' However, things are going to be vastly better from here forwards, so be comforted. Let me see about Albus, and we can plan to meet there in 15 minutes, yes?" Everyone nodded as Minerva and Severus went to their respective houses to check on their charges for the night.

Fifteen minutes later found the five of them seated comfortably around a low table as Minerva again poured tea for all. Once all were served, Pavel brought a small clear crystal globe from a waistcoat pocket, along with a stand for it that looked like a black checker piece. Setting them in the center of the table, well clear of the teatray, he extended his hand over it, softly saying _"Engorgio"_. The globe expanded greatly, until it was about the size of a spinning globe map of the earth, or a beachball.

"Albus," he began, "we all know that you've placed Harry with the Dursleys because Petunia, being Lily's sister, carries the blood wards with her, and those can be powerful protection for Potter. While they have no doubt helped the boy remain occulted and hidden from Voldemort or his lackeys... they can be impaired if the blood relative does not really accept the relationship emotionally, or embrace the child. In this case, I believe we may want to consider an alternative. Harry was kind enough to allow me access to some of his mind and memories.

"This globe, you may think of as a 'group participation penseive'. I spent 20 minutes with Potter this evening reviewing some aspects of his domestic life."

"Ah..." interrupted Snape with a sarcastic twang, "so now we get to see the little Potter Prince, the Boy Who Lives, in his regal palace with his adoring admirers and family?"

"Yes, Severus, we will. I ask that no one interrupt or comment until we finish, and you can either observe the action within the crystal, or place your hand on the surface of the globe, and you will enter as an observer just as if this were a liquid penseive."

"We may as well go together, eh?" Albus volunteered, laying his palm atop the globe.

"Certainly," agreed Minerva.

"Why not?" intoned Severus.

"Very well, since I have already been there, I shall refrain. But I will monitor the process. Here we go..." and Pavel opened the memory container and used his wand tip to deposit the mist on the crystal surface. He stood and walked over to the fireplace staring at the flames, unable to bear seeing the boy suffer so much all over again.

Fifteen minutes along or so, he returned and sat down, drinking some more of his tea, avoiding the scene playing out within the globe. Although their consciousness forms were within the globe, his colleagues' bodies were here sitting with him. He saw the expression of deep grief lining Albus' ashen face, Minerva's tear filled eyes and shocked expression, and the look of utter horror and remorse on the face of Severus. John, he could see, was tight-lipped and angry. Everyone exited the globe as Harry conducted Pavel to the door and they had ended the session.

When all eyes were again focused on him, Pavel said, "My dear friends, I suggest we say nothing at all. I can only imagine the feelings you are experiencing. Let me just say I have the most full confidence that every decision made here for this lad, has been totally in the interests of protecting and nurturing him. There is no reason for recriminations.

"More to the point, all of this is the past, and we are now in the present and building a future. Let me share with you a bit more about Mr. Potter and his potential future..." And Pavel took about 10 minutes describing the three elements: Harry's power level, Harry's fate weaving, and Harry's lack of attachment and trust... along with the future possibilities, both light and dark.

"I have in mind a proposal I wish to make, that I believe will adequately address our needs. Before I go any further, I need to have a few moments to discuss matters with John, though I believe I know where his heart will lie. Still, we need to make a decision which is in part John's alone. So... if we may be excused for just a few brief moments, we'll be right back and continue."

John and Pavel actually left Dumbledore's office, down the rotating staircase, both to assure their privacy, and to allow the three of them to speak freely with one another. He could not imagine what they were going through, as he knew Albus and Minerva, at least, would consider themselves wholly responsible for all that boy had suffered. Severus was free of that, but Paul had not had the heart to point out that one of the foremost bullies in Harry's life, was Snape. And he now knew vastly more of Snape than he had before this night. When Severus watched these scenes, he did not only experience disgust, anger, and revulsion... but also "resonance". Even in the worst moments, Snape synchronized with Harry, which meant... he had experienced the same things in his own childhood.

Within five minutes, all could hear the staircase returning Pavel and John to the office, and entering with a spring in his step he clasped his hands together in a gesture of determined action and said, "Well, that is all taken care of. Now... I presume we are agreed that the current situation is no longer to be tolerated, yes?"

"Absolutely..." Albus spoke, as all three voiced some form of affirmation.

"However, simply to remove the boy from the care of his guardians would leave two problems... One, the loss of the protection of the Blood Wards; and Two, who would raise the boy? Am I correct?"

"Yes," Minerva picked up the thread of conversation. "Though I'm sure the Weasley's or any number of wonderful families would be delighted to foster Harry."

"True. But aside from the issue of the Blood Wards, let me ask you truthfully... all three of you... Do any of you know a home that could raise and train a wizard of Harry's power and temperament? What was it you said to me yesterday, Minerva? _'Just... don't you go spoiling the lad. He's a handful, and requires very little encouragement to get his own way, regardless of the rules!'_ Think of the stories you have all told me of his exploits last year, and even thus far... THIS year. He slips the harness and grabs the bit in his teeth with even all of us maintaining a structured environment here."

These reflections caused them all to pause and consider. In a moment or two they were nodding in understanding of the problem.

Albus spoke, "Good points you make, Pavel. Now, you said you have a proposal to make. I assume it somehow meets all these concerns."

"Perhaps. There's no way to tell for certain unless or until we try, but it MAY meet all the concerns. Harry Potter has asked me, with all the sincerity he has, to 'teach him'. And by this, he really meant 'everything'... magic and wizardry, yes... but beneath that I think he's asking how to grow up, how to become a man. I propose to grant his petition, to offer him Formal Apprenticeship, and purchase him from the Dursleys. I need to know what you would think of that."

A few moments of sheer silence passed before Minerva's outraged voice cried, " _PURCHASE_ him? What in the world d'ye mean _'purchase him_ '?"

Albus leaned forward, raising his hand to interject, and opened his mouth to speak...

She cut him off with a warning finger, saying, "don't even try, Albus... I want to know what Paul means by this."

"I mean exactly what I've said. The Blood Wards contribute some protection for Harry. Therefore, while none of us ever want him to be vulnerable to the Dursley's again, it would be well to preserve what we can. Investigation has shown that they are not only selfish and self-indulgent, but greedy as well. They have no desire to interact with Harry. It's not even like the situation of a bitter divorce where uncaring parents will fight for custody just to spite one another. They truly do not want him there. Very well. I am prepared to enter into a contract with them, for a substantial amount of gold, to sign him over to my care and training as an Apprentice until he reaches his majority... and perhaps beyond. And by the way, he would of course be remaining here as a Hogwarts student. But I would contract for full rights in _loco parentis_ , along with requiring a vial of Petunia's blood to establish some additional protections and wards for his quarters. I would not pose this as a ' _transaction_ ' because it reflects anything of my heart and feelings for the boy... but rather because doing things this way, I can sever the threads binding him to the Dursley's authority in any way."

Minerva was much calmer as she followed up with, "But Paul, are you really prepared, at this point in life, to raise such a boy? And what does John think about all this? And what are the implications of ' _Apprenticeship_ '?"

John cleared his throat, and took Minerva's hand. "Auntie, I know it doesn't appear publicly when you read Papa's resume or something, but he has been parenting and reparenting 'problem children' his whole career. Most aurors come from difficult or disturbed backgrounds, and his skills weaving time, fate, and mind magic heal souls in ways I cannot explain. As to what Apprenticeship would mean... if Harry accepts this covenant, then my father will teach Harry everything he knows, or ever learns... or as much of that as Harry can learn. He will become his Heir as a Mage. His library, so on... his magical legacy would go to Harry. I know that in this part of the world, Apprenticeship is nearly extinct as so much is invested in academies like this one. But in our part of the world, since the academies are not necessarily of this quality - not to mention that we are simply quite a bit more medieval regarding things arcane - formal Apprenticeship is a well recognized means of supernatural training. The contracts Papa speaks of are very standard and formal, generally well recognized by any nation's ministry. They would not preclude any family taking domestic guardianship or becoming a foster family, but when Harry would be in my father's care rather than at home, Papa would stand in _loco parentis_. As far as how I feel about all this... I cannot be my father's heir in magery, for I have adopted the alternative path. I have, of course, been 'raised' and largely trained by my father, but as to vampiric training, that has been at the hands of the Vampire under whom I became a ghoul. It would delight me if this works with Harry, both for Harry's sake, for Papa's sake and the sake of his legacy, and frankly because I've always wanted a kid brother. I couldn't be happier."

"Well, noo... what do ye think?" she asked, looking over at Albus and Severus.

"As for me," Snape volunteered, "I think the solution is an elegant one. After seeing you two 'spar' the other night, I cannot imagine better preparation for Potter facing the challenges he may have coming up in these few years. It goes without saying that I have seriously misjudged the boy up to now, and will do all in my power to promote your efforts to heal and restore him. I shall not suddenly go all 'warm and fuzzy' on him," Snape nodded smiling at Pavel, "but never again will I give him cause to feel 'bullied' by me. I regret that deeply."

All eyes turned to Dumbledore as quietly he had just sat to the side listening to all parties, sipping his tea. "Well, dear friends, I hold myself the most responsible for failing Harry in these years. There is no excuse for my inattention and I offer none. Pavel, if you feel that you can heal this grave injustice over the next six years, or ten, or twelve, or whatever it takes, you have my most full support.

"We have all carefully tiptoed around the word across this entire discussion. Harry needs a warm, consistent, passionate loving _father_. He needs to master powers, forces, and temptations that are hard to imagine for one so young. Few men would have my confidence to heal, guide, train, and love enough for a situation like this. You are certainly one of them, and John could not be a better 'big brother'... helping to heal the sibling damage done by the Dudley boy.

"I do think it goes without saying..." thoughtfully adjusting his glasses and putting his teacup down, "that Harry will also need some maternal influence as well, just as we've noted the significance of Iryna in John's life. Minerva, I think between your relationship with Harry, along with your familial relationship with Pavel and John, it seems as if all the proper pieces are in all the proper places."

Pavel had the grace examine the tea in his cup with great focus and intensity while Albus spoke, and had to clear a bit of huskiness from his throat as he acknowledged everyone's comments. "So I take it we are agreed, are we not? First, we should discuss this option with Mr. Potter, and let him declare his preference. If he agrees, and you are all satisfied that he understands the gravity of the decision he is making, I shall then travel to the Dursley's home and make my offer. I have no reason to believe they will hesitate, and I will place protective wards over them to last for at least the next six years. They must remain safe at least until Harry reaches his majority.

"Does this meet with the approval of all?" all nodded. "Wonderful. I have an appointment with Mr. Potter for tomorrow evening at 7. Perhaps we could all meet here at that time, discuss the matter with Mr. Potter, and provided that he agree, I shall see the Dursley's on Saturday. Agreed?" all nodded. "Excellent, thank you!"

At which point, John raised his teacup in toast, saying "Congratulations, Papa. You're about to become a father... again. A bouncing adolescent wizard who doesn't know the meaning of the word 'rules'. This should be great fun!"

 _All laughed and joined in the toast with their own congratulations, as Paul responded, "Thank you so much, dear friends. Heaven help us all!"_

* * *

 _ **A/N** What do you think of this tale, Gentle Reader? I'm interested in ideas you may have for the nature of Apprenticeship of Harry under Paul. I know what's in my mind, but here's a terrific opportunity to add elements and variety to "magical education". What would you teach an apprentice, and how? Constructive criticism and comment welcome! Thank you for reading thus far. Grace to you - Mort_


	22. Lining Up the Ducks

**A/N:** Thanks to Chrisrawr for helping me keep details straight! Bravo! Keep them comments coming! :) - GtY - M

 **Lining Up the Ducks**

Friday was a comparatively light day on Professor Konstantyn's schedule. He did not have any classes to teach, but did have office hours from 3:00 to 4:00 and then proctored a prep hour from 4:00 to 5:00. Fridays were the days he used to run his own errands, conduct research, and take care of business. Today was no exception.

Again, an hour or so before dawn, he jumped out his window and flew the length of the boundary wards looking for any disturbance in the perimeter of the school grounds. He flew to the Forbidden Forest fringe, and shifted into wolf form, to run deep into the darkness trying to locate the observers he knew had to be there somewhere. Still he met with no success, and it frustrated him no end, for he could sense malevolent presence and he was certain it was not natural fauna.

He returned to the Castle and headed to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, dressed for Diagon Alley with his briefcase by his side. He planned to floo up to town and head to Gringott's Bank first, then to the Ministry to collect the necessary paperwork for Potter's Apprenticeship. He knew it would confuse the first two or three clerks he spoke to there, since it was probably a most uncommon practice these days. Still, the wizarding community prided itself on keeping archaic and ancient practices alive and well, and he knew the proper clerk for filing, and exchequer for fees would be there somewhere. He wanted everything absolutely perfect, filled out, and in order so that when he met with the Dursley's all he would need is a simple signature from them - well, and a vial of Petunia's blood.

Pavel had a couple quick stops to make in the Castle.

He went to the Infirmary to see Poppy, letting her know he'd have Harry come in sometime in the day to get a complete checkup. He needed a full orthopaedic workup, internal exam - with attention to lesions, adhesions, healed injuries, and analysis of soft muscular tissues, with tendons and ligaments looking for sprains, strains, or tears. Also, he needed a full nutritional evaluation. Poppy narrowed her eyes to slits, knowing what these assessments were normally in aid of. Pavel nodded, saying only that they were addressing the situation, and Poppy left it at that. When she had the results, she could have them sent to the Headmaster, as they'd be meeting later. He then intercepted Harry on the way to breakfast to tell him to go see Madame Pomfrey in a free period, that he wanted a checkup just as any sports team would.

Paul then headed to Albus' office to inform him of his plans for the day, let him know that Harry's medical assessment would be coming, and to use his floo to get to Diagon Alley.

He timed his arrival just as Gringott's Bank opened their doors, and sat down with an officer to arrange accounts and letters of credit. He always kept an account here - as he did in every country he regularly taught in - but he needed to transfer in funds and have four bank draughts made out payable through the Barclay's Bank for the Dursley's. He also arranged for eight years of account management to maintain the Dursley arrangements.

That finished, he headed off to the Ministry of Magic, stopping by the offices of Mad Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt to renew old friendships. From there he headed down to the Registrar's Office, picked up all the necessary forms for Formal Apprenticeship, and then headed to the lobby where he could hire a resident solicitor to complete all the necessary paperwork. It cost him 25 galleons and 45 minutes to accomplish the complete legal absorption of Harry Potter... but for a signature or two.

Heading to Flourish and Blott's, the Professor picked up copies of Introductory Latin, Introductory Greek, and Introduction to German. It was likely that Mr. Potter would need some help getting started with his language studies. He then headed to Quality Quidditch Supplies, buying a mouthpiece fitting kit to have one custom made for Harry, both for Quidditch and dueling. He also got a broom maintenance kit, and a locking boot for that Nimbus. If Harry ever had to be officially "grounded", the consequence may be vastly more effective given a "symbolic icon", like locking his broom in an inescapable parking container. He then stopped by Ollivander's, introduced himself as teaching History of Magic at Hogwarts saying he was going to present a lecture on wand lore, and asked for a twig of holly wood... preferably from the same source as Harry's wand. He was looking for resonance with Harry's magic. Paul's last stop was The Apothecary, where he got some supplies for fabricating some medallions he needed to charm this afternoon.

All his errands finished, everything stored away in his pouch or pockets in miniscule form, he considered lunch there just to enjoy the break and clear his head. He had just decided "no", it was not a time for self-indulgence, he would return to his duties at Hogwarts and come here later with the boy recreationally... when unexpectedly, as he walked towards the Leaky Cauldron to floo home... he sensed something wrong.

It was just a "hint" at the very edges of his supernatural senses... like the scent of the faintest aroma at the edges of his awareness. He stopped, waited, extended his awareness... But no, it was gone now. He retraced his steps a little, there it was again. _"Ah... of course... I've not been thinking! Getting old perhaps!" as he recognized the entrance to "Knockturn Alley". So desperately, he wanted to investigate and explore!_

It would take no more than an instant for him to duck into a deserted doorway, transform into a rat or a roach - anything that would go unnoticed in the disreputable area - and move on deeper in to isolate his quarry. He could nearly feel the transformation beginning. But... the discipline of decades in his career, along with having disciplined countless trainees for yielding to precisely this temptation, held him fast to his cardinal rules of engagement. _His own voice echoed in his ears, "You NEVER! EVER! Enter so dangerous an area, knowing nothing of the number or strength of your opponent(s), alone and isolated. You MUST! ALWAYS! have a partner or team connected with you to monitor, support, and/or rescue if necessary. To do otherwise risks you, the information you already carry, the information you hope to obtain, and perhaps the lives of those who come to look for you if something goes wrong. Simply put, you NEVER enter the unknown clear and present danger without Backup, an Operational Plan, and an Exit Strategy."_

A first violation in Auror/Operative Training would subject a Trainee to weeks of penitential additional - usually custodial and disgusting - duties assigned by Pavel. A second violation resulted in a referral to the Division Chief, where they would be given a choice between dismissal from the program or Administrative Discipline, which would be a formal state supernatural flogging delivered at the disciplinary barracks. There was seldom a third violation but if there were, that was simple dismissal, there was no further appeal.

Pavel turned away from the Alley's entrance steps in both disgust and frustration. He knew better even than to have given the thought of solo entrance serious consideration. This was not even his area of responsibility! He belonged at Hogwarts. This was the job for John and his team. "Mutual accountability" could be so damned inconvenient, as he would have to report his own momentary lapse of judgment to John, and yield to his disposition. _"No one EVER works alone! Teams are mutually accountable, and there MUST be transparency, or no one is safe!" Cardinal principle, drilled into every operational team._

It was time to return to Hogwarts, but at least he had a new lead. He would also need to see about increasing Harry's security some. He had a few ideas that he pondered, as he stepped into the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, and strode resolutely through the fireplace.

Stepping through to Albus' office, he was pleased to see the Headmaster waiting for him. It was still a few minutes before lunchtime, so Pavel took the opportunity to brief him on all that had transpired, including his suspicions that Petrov or some of his henchmen may be in, or regularly passing through, Knockturn Alley. He also shared his conversations with Moody and Kingsley at the Ministry, that they were updated on the Petrov situation, along with the pending apprenticeship of Potter. This last came as something of a surprise, but also a great relief to them, and... he added to Albus with a chuckle... they wished us the "very best of luck", as they knew the challenges of simply keeping any simple surveillance on the lad. He had evaded their operatives more than once.

Conversation finished, Pavel went to his quarters to unpack his shopping, put away his papers and belongings, and assemble the materials he would need for the enchantments he planned to execute later in his Office Hours or the prep hour. Both offered opportunity for working more or less without interruption, and there was nothing wrong with allowing students to watch the process from their prep hour seats if they chose. Nothing dangerous would be revealed in the spell casting. He may even ask Professor Flitwick to cast any additional charms he feels are appropriate. _All of this finished, Pavel paused a moment to consider if he was forgetting anything of the myriad of details to be dealt with this afternoon... no? Everything taken care of? Yes? Fine._ So, garbed again for his academic pursuits, he strode out of his quarters to his place at the High Table for Dinner, or Luncheon.

Seated next to John, with a smiling expression as if merely chatting, and casting a muffling charm into the space between them, Pavel reported all that had been done, all that he had discovered, and his plans for the rest of the day. John appeared simply to smile, nod, and engage in equally insignificant small talk, as he acknowledged all of this and resolved to post his best men to explore Knockturn Alley thoroughly, and report back.

"The men you have in mind, Ivan..." Konstantyn began, reverting in his concentration to John's given name... "they are skilled and undetectable in their animagus forms?"

"Of course, Papa. I plan to send Vasily and Stashu."

"Good. Good," Pavel nodded. "If this is indeed Petrov, we cannot overestimate the potential risk," and his eyes closed a moment in his renewed grief over Aleksandur's death. "There should be backup available as well, somewhere other in Diagon Alley, ready to extract them should they be overcome somehow."

Knowing Pavel's thoughts, John replied, "Yes, Papa. All precautions will be taken. We all knew, and know, the risks of our work. But we have been intensely trained to contain those risks to a minimum. My men, and I, know the consequences for foolhardy judgment, even should we survive the lapse." John smiled, knowing how often his life and those of his men, had been saved by the severity of his father's training.

Pavel chuckled at the comment, and winced at the prompt... "That reminds me, John. You and I need to have a _'little chat'_ later."

John looked up startled from his plate, turned to Pavel and said, "Really?" For all his life, those words "little chat" had been code between them for some necessary, usually unpleasant, disciplinary conversation or event. It was usually used in some very public setting, when Ivan's behavior was unacceptable, and Pavel or Iryna needed to issue a clear warning that he had reached a boundary in some way that did not embarrass him. "Have I unknowingly failed in some duty or lapsed in judgment? Feel free to tell me, if so."

"No, my son. You are fine. It is _my_ lapse, or nearly so, and _my_ accountability that requires review and discussion."

"Ah, very well," John nodded, not the least bit nonplussed. "Just let me know where and when, and I am at your disposal." A team's mutual accountability and transparency about judgments, risks, accidents, incidents, or "near misses" like this may be, provided the mutual trust and transparency that kept an entire team safe. Rank, role, or seniority had no bearing on this mutual accountability, and Pavel had just placed himself _"on report"_ just as any other team member would be expected do. They would deal with this later.

With that their private discussion closed and they enjoyed their meals or engaged in small talk until finished. Before he got up, Pavel had been observing Harry through the meal, and was pleased to see that his mood seemed upbeat and his conversation animated with his friends. Clearly, he had not suffered from nightmares or anxiety in his sleep, and was looking forward to the day.

Pavel now had a _"sympathetic connection"_ with Harry that would allow them to speak to one another at will, soundlessly. The Professor thus spoke with Harry, as he saw him rising to leave, _"Mr. Potter. I know you have the rest of the afternoon free but for prep hour at 4 and our meeting at 7. Do you plan to fly this afternoon? You may reply with just intention of the words and an impulsion of your will. This is not 'mind reading', I will only hear what you intend to say, but it is a form of 'telepathy'."_

Again, with his irrepressible enthusiasm for all new discoveries magical, the first thing heard from Harry was, _"How cool, Professor!" in excited tones._ It made Pavel shake his head... no concerns for the 'safety implications' of such an invasion, no fear to it, not even a sense of invaded privacy... just... this is _"Cool!"_ The boy had so much to learn. Harry went on, _"Yes, sir, I was planning to fly from 3 to 4 today." Pavel felt a mental blush on Harry's part, as his tone lowered a bit saying, "I asked Madame Hooch this time for permission."_

 _"Good, Harry. Very good," and he could see Harry smile at the praise. "Would you please come to my office in 30 minutes or so. I have some things to give you, and I would appreciate it if you came unobserved. And would you please bring your armor vest with you."_

 _"Sure, Professor," he responded instantly. And Pavel could hear the curiosity behind the acknowledgment, and was very pleased to sense no fear. "I'll see you then."_


	23. Covenant Struck

**Covenant Struck**

Fatigue began to creep into Pavel's muscles and shoulders, making him shake his head in irritation with himself. No, that was unacceptable self-indulgence. These next few days would be stressful and tiring, he was simply to embrace that reality and "get over it", as the kids say these days. Sunday, circumstances permitting, he would withdraw for a few hours to refresh himself, but that would have to wait to see.

Pavel exited the Great Hall and made his way to his office, still subjected to students clearing the way for him in the halls, which made him smile. He suspected, actually hoped, that would end after by Monday or after he had taught all his Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff sections that day, to "finish the cycle". If it continued beyond that, he would announce to his classes that it did not seem proper for such a gesture to him, and not show that same respect to all faculty. He would therefore suggest that either they return to normal hallway decorum, or consider making it a permanent Hogwarts policy at the appearance of any and all staff. He was quite sure, rather than subject themselves to such a show of deference to Professors Snape or even - Merlin forbid! - Mr. Filch, they would choose to desist.

Going to his walnut wardrobe, Pavel hung up his academic robes and opened the right side door, removing what looked like an athletic suit for competitive bicycling - or broom racing, There was a silvery silken long sleeved crew-neck shirt, and a pair of y-front long legged pants that seemed like the expensive cold climate thermal underwear used by elite military units. The suit had an almost iridescent sheen to it, that gave it a metallic, or mineral, hue... like mother of pearl.

He brought it to his desk and sat down, bringing out the casting kit for the mouthpiece, and a runed medallion - similar, but not identical, to the ones he gave to Warrington and Pucey. He placed his hands flat with both palms down onto the folded garments, closed his eyes, and began chanting very softly. The clothes began to glow and heat up with a reddish golden warmth. As this continued, he began to manipulate the cloth and fibers between his fingers. It looked rather like washing his hands, drawing the fabric across his palms and fingertips. In a few minutes, he finished and laid them aside. Picking up the runic medal, he drew his wand and imbued the medallion with force, focus, and power through the wand tip into the disk. The rune on its face changed in its configuration, and the writing at the edge repositioned and revised itself, shifting on and into the coin's surface like very small snakes taking up their positions. When he finished, he sighed with fatigue and walked to his washroom to down a dose of PepperUp potion. "One," he counted to himself, ever careful to monitor his intake. He limited himself to only three, until he required natural rest of himself. Only in the most grave emergency and necessity would he exceed this limit.

As he returned to his desk, he could sense and hear Harry crossing the classroom towards his steps, but as he looked out he was astonished to find he could see nothing at all of him. This both confused and pleased him. It was good that Harry apparently had access to some stealth, but clearly he would need training on muffling his sounds as well. Shifting his vision somewhat, he could clearly make out Harry's "nimbus", the "aura" or envelope clearly evident around magical persons, when viewed in the dimension of prime forces, the raw essence of magic. But there was no materially visual evidence at all. Pavel nodded, noting that whatever was shielding the boy, it was damned good. He pondered calling out to Harry, but decided to leave him with his sense of small victory instead. He waited, as he saw Harry duck into cover at the top of the steps, and reveal himself at the doorway. No evidence of his shielding was visible, which piqued Pavel's curiosity no end.

"Afternoon, Pr'fessor," the boy called out in a chipper tone. "Here I am!"

"Indeed you are, Harry. Thank you for coming. I gather you were not observed?"

"Nope," he affirmed, with great confidence, smiling as he shook his head.

"All right then. I'll not keep you very long. Did you bring your vest with you?"

"Yes, sir, it's right here," and Harry pulled it from the bookbag over his shoulder.

"Good. Now, I have a very serious question that I would like you to consider this afternoon. You know that the Dueling Club will meet again this evening at 7:30 in the gymnasium, yes?" Harry nodded. "Well, my question is about your petition that I train you, and the essay you wrote - quite well by the way - about what you would want and expect from both me and yourself in that training."

"Yes, sir?" a little edge of anxiety tinging his voice.

"Feel free to sit down there, Harry," he indicated a chair in front of the desk. "I'd have you sit over here and order tea, but I want you to be able to get on and enjoy your afternoon, so we won't take that kind of time right now. But there is absolutely nothing wrong, or to worry about here, you understand that?"

"Yes, sir," came without the strain this time, as Harry bounced onto the chair and Pavel sat down as well.

"What you've asked of me would require far more than one year to teach. Did you realize that? It would be several years of intensive study to attain the skill levels you envision."

Harry looked crestfallen, turned his gaze to his shoetips, and answered, "Well, I guess I kinda knew that. But I was hoping it would be faster, that it would be something you'd be able to do without taking up too much of your time. I guess it's just too much trouble. I understand..."

Pavel smiled, and with gentle voice, said, "Harry, look at me." Harry looked up with disappointed eyes. "You mistake me, lad. I'm not saying 'no'... I'm asking if you truly understand what you are asking? I do not plan to be going anywhere for quite a while, but that kind of training is a very deep commitment on a very deep personal level between a student and a teacher."

"You're... you're not saying 'no', sir?" and hope began to spark in his eyes again.

"No, I am not. I am quite prepared to say 'yes', but only if you understand what you are getting into. Are you familiar with a form of education not in common use here anymore, called 'Apprenticeship'?"

"Yes. I've read about it. There's an apprentice and a master... and it's kind of like work, and kind of like school, and kind of like... well... kind of like family," his voice grew husky.

"That's exactly right, Harry. It's not like being just a 'pupil in school', who goes and does his classes, then goes home and that's it. It's not a 'part time arrangement'. Apprenticeship is a full-time covenant, a relationship, that does not clock on and clock off. A Master - and by that I mean 'Magister' or 'Maestro', it's a declaration of artistry, authority, and role, not just an arbitrary rank of power - commits to teaching an Apprentice all that he or she knows, limited only by what the Apprentice is willing and able to learn. For us, in magic, it is the investment in and creation of one's magical heir. Now, Harry, this is what you have petitioned me for. The question I have to ask is, would you accept such an offer, knowing the very deep magical bindings and covenants it would entail? Think about that a moment, ask questions, don't rush to an answer."

Harry started to speak, and Pavel held up a hand. "Don't answer for a few minutes. We'll come back to that. I promise. Now, there are a few other matters, just little things to take care of. One, I want to show you something about your vest armor," and Pavel stood, beckoning Harry to come to the desk as he spread the vest out on the desktop. "If you squeeze this stud right here on the collar," demonstrating as it looked like he pushed a button, "the collar will soften, retract, and mold itself into a crew-neck. Squeeze the neckline again, and it will return to an upright position. Now, you try it..."

And Harry did, grinning from ear to ear, "Cool!"

There was that word again, Pavel shook his head with a chuckle. "Now, Harry, look at these garments here," handing him the silvery suit. They seemed light as a feather and just as soft. They almost felt liquid, as the fabric flowed through his hands. "These are also armor, but they are vastly different than the vest. These garments will protect you from a wide array of magical attack. What's more this material, once keyed to you, will sort of 'melt into your skin', giving you supernatural shielding that cannot be seen by others or removed against your will. You need never take it off, to sleep, to bathe, whatever. You will forget it's there, but it will protect you from many things, including traps by portal keys, or abduction by apparition. It should improve your resistance to immobilization spells as well. If you plan to duel, as tonight, you must 'will' it not to protect you. The thing is, when you leave the venue, _I absolutely require,_ that you will it to function again. Is that understood?" and these last two sentences were issued in the Professor's hard-edged "command" voice, at there be no mistaking his meaning.

"Yes, sir. Understood..." Harry answered crisply.

"Very good, thank you, Harry," milder voice, smile... Harry's shoulders relax. "Now, just one more thing," as Pavel filled the mouth mold halves with some rubbery goo... "I am having a mouthpiece made for you, like my own..." which he pulled out of a pocket and showed to Harry. "You are to wear it whenever you play Quidditch or plan stunt flying, or when you duel. It will help protect you from biting your tongue or cheek in a fall, tumble, or if you are hit with a painful or unnerving spell. You'll find a pocket under the breast flap of the vest, in which you can keep it, because I'd like you please to wear that vest in those same circumstances. In fact... I would like you to start wearing the vest all the time under your daytime clothes. You may sleep without it, but you will find it will help you keep a comfortable temperature, cooling if you're hot, warming if you're cold. It carries some protections the silken suit cannot, with a higher absorb factor, and some straightforward armoring in forces. Please bite down on these for a moment..." as he helped Harry insert the molds.

After only a few seconds, Pavel grasped his wand, waved towards Harry's mouth, and told him he could remove the molds. He then instructed Harry to go use either his washroom or the boy's room down the hallway to disrobe, put on the suit, the vest over that and hide the collar, then don his school clothes over the lot. He warned Harry that the suit would look too small and tight, but it would not feel that way once he had it on.

Harry, unaccustomed to receiving gifts as he had been in his life, was very pleased and excited to get these. Molly Weasley, all the Weasley's really, Minerva, Albus... had all been diligent in giving Harry gifts for birthdays, Christmas, and such. But still, the boy was nearly moved to tears, just to be given something for his very own as a gift. While Harry was away, changing, Pavel opened a skrying window to the Quidditch Emporium, asked for the clerk "Jasper" with whom he had made arrangements this morning, and handed him the solidified molds through the window.

"Right Professor, this will only take a minute or two. Care to keep the window open and wait, or would you like me to floo call you?" Jasper inquired.

"I'll wait, if it's no trouble..."

"Not at all. 'Arf a 'mo. Be right witcha'"

In literally about a minute and a half, Jasper was handing the Professor his new mouthpiece, complete with case and care instructions. The Professor thanked him for his prompt and courteous service, and passed an extra galleon to him in the exchange.

"Oh, sir... that's not ne..."

"Have a pint on me, Jasper. Your service is excellent," he laughed.

"Oh, well... if you put it that way, thanks guv'."

And Pavel closed the window, just as Harry returned, looking just like... Harry.

"How does this feel, Harry?"

"It's a little strange, Professor. I really don't feel like I'm wearing anything more than when I came. That doesn't make sense, does it?" he said, as he moved arms, legs, trying various joints.

"Actually it does, lad. That's how this should feel. In fact, it will be even more so when I finish fitting the suit."

"Oh, by the way, about that suit... is it supposed to go over... or under my..."

Pavel cut him off, "It's supposed to be right next to your skin, Harry. You wear it beneath any and every garment of clothing."

"Right," he nodded. "That's what I figured, so I..."

"That's fine, Harry. Now try this mouthpiece for fit," Pavel interrupted again, handing Harry the case. He had no need to discuss underclothing.

Harry looked at the case, as his eyes got big. "Professor, this is from the Quidditch Emporium, one of their custom professional mouthpieces. I've always wanted one, but these are expen..."

"Harry, just put it in and bite down. I need to know it fits properly, please." Harry put it in, stopped talking, and nodded in approval at the fit. The Professor showed him how, if he stowed the mouthpiece properly in its case, those could be placed into the hidden pocket of his vest, underneath his shirt.

"Good, now the last thing. Raise your sleeve, so that you expose the silver suit." Harry complied. Pavel raised his wand, saying, "Harry, I'm going to 'awaken' the suit. It is going to heat up just a bit, and glow, and then you will feel a tingling as it identifies you as its 'person'. This won't hurt at all, but it will feel what you would call 'weird'. All right?" Harry nodded, and Pavel proceeded. Finishing the top, he had Harry raise his trouser leg to do the same. After just a few moments, the fabric stopped glowing, and the Professor lowered his wand.

"Thank you, Harry. That's all we need to do for now. Please wear those now, the suit all the time, the vest except when you change for bed at night. Please do not leave your dorm room without the vest on. Cover it with your clothing as you choose. Now go on with your day, and I should like you to meet me at Headmaster Dumbledore's office this evening at 7."

"But, Professor? Don't you want to know my decision? You asked me a question."

"I only want you to speak if you are _absolutely certain,_ Harry. This is years of commitment on both our parts, and you have to be absolutely sure what you want before you speak."

"I know what I want. And, I know what I DON'T want. I want to be your apprentice, and learn everything you know. I know it'll be hard, and I'll probably get mad a lot, frustrated a lot, even get in trouble a lot. I can just tell, it's likely to be that way. Because you're strict and I've been told... and I know... I break rules a lot. There's even a lot of people who care for me and love me a lot. The Weasley's, the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall... and I know I can and should trust them. But... and I know it's probably just because it all happened here, and they were involved with my parents and stuff... but for everybody, I'm always _TheBoyWhoLived_ , and it feels like when anyone sees me, even them, they see Voldemort at the same time. I never just feel like a 'boy'. 'Just Harry'. Hagrid... Hagrid is like the only grownup that just treats me like 'Harry'. That's why I love hanging out with him so much.

"But he can't teach me to be a wizard. He can't teach me everything I need to know. But you and Master Constantine treat me just like I was everybody else, or at least I 'feel' like 'just a boy... Harry' when you deal with me. Don't take this the wrong way, Professor... because I really like and respect you a lot. But more than that, you raised Master Constantine, right? You weren't away working while he was a kid, and he was raised by somebody else, right?"

"No, that's right, Harry. My wife and I raised Master Constantine, even though he attended school away. We were always very involved in his life, and did most of his training."

"Well, then I want to be your Apprentice, Professor. First, I just want to be just ' _A_ _Boy Who_ _Lives'_ , and when I look at Master Constantine, I want to be a wizard like I see him to be. And I'll probably mess up a lot. But I'll do my best. You never make me feel like a freak. And even being 'The Boy Who Lives', is just another way of being a freak."

"I believe you, Harry. I believe this is what you truly want, and that you have some idea of what it entails. Tonight you will meet with me, the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Master Constantine. You can ask any and all the questions that may occur to you then, and they will consider, with us, whether this is appropriate. If we all agree, you and I will enter a Magister/Apprentice Covenant, and all there will be left to do is get the Dursley's signature, which I will do tomorrow.

The Professor thought a moment, and added, "I suggest you bring Hermione and Ron with you this evening. You may want to speak with them as you make this decision, or at least share the moment with them. When we are finished, we will proceed to the gymnasium and join in on the activity of the Dueling Club. Agreed?"

"Fine, Professor. May I tell them about this before then?" Harry asked.

"Yes, if they will agree to keep this as private as any other of your many secrets. This is not appropriate grist for the school's rumor mill as yet. All right?"

"Yes, sir. No fear. They know how to keep a secret."

"Right, then go enjoy your afternoon, and I'll see you for Study Hall, on time, at 4:00. _Be gone, waif!_ " came his good-natured shout, as he gestured banishment with his hand. Harry jumped up, grabbed his bag, and started to run out, then checked himself and walked sedately as he heard Pavel clear his throat.

The Professor asked Wilfried, the Hogwarts house elf who had adopted him, for a pot of tea as he left his desk just to sit in the "library" section of his office in a comfy chair, and took down a book of poetry to relax with for just an hour or so. At 3:00 he had Office Hours, and planned to begin enchanting the artifact tokens he needed to distribute this evening. He had 3 runic medallions for Albus, Minerva, and Severus, 1 for Harry, and 2 for Hermione and Ron. Each had differing runes, and Severus' would be enameled over with black cloisonné in shape of a fanged bat. If his were ever found or noticed by the wrong parties, it would simply be taken as a dark token or charm. Albus and Minerva's were shaped in form of an orthodox square cross, and the children's were simply runic coin disks. He had been fashioning and preparing them for a few days now, and only the last bits of enchantment needed to be added, along with keying them to their owners tonight. He had to budget the energy he invested in these projects. It would not do for him to become overly fatigued or exhausted in the night, when anything could happen any time.

 _"Well." he thought, "hopefully things will be better once we get things organized. Harry should be safer, and we can settle into some routine, as we continue the hunt for Petrov. John is very very good, and Petrov will doubtless come to us before long. Hopefully, we'll be ready." And he sat back to spend an hour recharging his energy, sipping his tea, and reading poetry, letting his mind roam hills, breezes, trees, rivers... free._

Returning from his reverie, he cast "Tempus" over the fireplace, and frowned to read it saying 3:05. It disturbed his internal sense of propriety and order for him to have missed rising from his tea and comfort and sitting at his desk, open for "Official Office Hours". Even though no students had appointments, and he expected none to come, he thought of himself as "late" by 5 minutes. Taking out his wand, he drew the medallions out of his desk and clustered them by grouping across the desktop. The three faculty medallions would wear the rune for "Kin", but it meant also "Brother/Sister" and "Associate". This, along with taking part in the binding covenant this evening between Harry and himself, would effectively weave together a "clan" or "coven" associated with the purpose of nurturing Harry and supporting his development and ongoing safety. Harry's rune was used for "Apprentice" but literally meant "son". The runes for Hermione and Ron read "brother/sister" as well, but were focused to Harry's rune. All the script around the edges of each medal, defined the context and application for the primary rune.

When finished with all of them, he looked at the time over the fireplace and found it was 3:30. No students had yet darkened his door, and just as he started to consider returning to his poetry, the Headmaster's voice came through his floo asking, "Are you available, Professor?"

"Yes, indeed, Headmaster. Please feel free to come in," and he waved his wand at the teapot to warm it, as he walked over to his sitting area. He thought a request to Wilfried for another cup, saucer, and spoon... which popped immediately onto the table before the fireplace and sofa.

Albus stepped in through his flash of green neon floo powder, holding a rolled up scroll in his hand. "Poppy has just sent me the medical report on Harry," and his voice sank with the knowledge. He reached out to hand the scroll to Pavel, who asked him please to pour himself some tea as he took a moment to review the report.

"Well, Albus, I've definitely seen worse," he said, rather brightly. "There are old injuries here, but nothing that cannot be healed up between Poppy and John. He is quite skilled in Body magic, and the internal organs and neural network are sound. Some adhesions here and there, and some muscle and ligament tears healed up we can regenerate. Nutrition we can work on, and he may remain a bit shorter than others his age, but we'll have to see how that goes. All in all, this should be fine. Good."

"Pavel, how can you say that, reading that report? How could I have been so negligent, to leave that poor vulnerable child in such a... such a... place?"

Pavel could feel the waves of guilt and shame rolling off the Headmaster. He knew from painful experience that "tea and sympathy" would do nothing to help his hurting friend. Words of comfort and understanding would only add to Albus' feelings of guilt. So, he decided on a different tack...

"Albus, dear friend, may I speak freely?"

"By all means, please do..."

"I understand how you feel. Anyone who loves as deeply and freely as you do would feel the same. But you placed Harry there for two very good reasons: to save his life through the protection of the Blood Wards; and to let him experience a 'normal' childhood away from all the 'Boy Who Lived' notoriety that would have been unavoidable in our wizarding world. There was no reason to imagine he would be so mistreated by his aunt and uncle, and no realistic surveillance would have disclosed their 'family secret'. Family secrets, I don't need to tell you, are very effectively hidden by children, whether it's alcohol, drugs, violence, or worse. Whatever was... back there... back then... is now in the past and utterly finished.

"So let's consider the 'present'. What do we 'have' here, in this Harry Potter Child? We have a tremendously powerful naive wizard. We have a compassionate heart. We have courage and resourcefulness. The trials and tribulations of his history have not cowed him, or depressed him, or even discouraged him. He has no respect for authorities, except what you have managed here at Hogwarts to instill. He has no respect for rules, because for years he had to break the rules simply to eat and survive. He is a stalwart 'champion'. That is, he will risk himself with reckless abandon, to defend or rescue someone weaker. He is stubborn and independent, unaccustomed to trust or reliance on others. Well, that's reasonable, and before Hogwarts highly functional in his self-care.

"Last year, in his first year at Hogwarts, his entire universe turned upside down. He loves magic and is enthusiastic about every new thing he sees and discovers. He considers Hogwarts his 'real home' because he is accepted here and feels a 'stability' he has never known, both regarding magic and the relationships he has formed with faculty and his friends.

"He is bright, resilient, passionate, adaptable, eager, kind, loving, and independent. The two most pronounced 'defects' he brings with him in the present are: an underlying insecurity having been told he's a 'freak' for 10 uninterrupted years, and a mistrusting rejection of authority, rules, and community accountability. He seems to have 3 intense passions: magic itself, and the wonder of what we do; fairness, justice, kindness, seeing that people deal rightly with one another; and a need to excel and garner enough approval from those he admires and respects, to offset that interior voice that still calls him a 'freak'. He has identified a single overwhelming desire to me, an intensely simple request that I suggest we try our best to fulfill."

"What is that, Pavel?" Dumbledore had followed the discourse with rapt attention.

"Rather like Pinocchio, Albus. Harry doesn't want to be 'The Boy Who Lived' so much as he just wants to be a 'boy'. The very gift you tried so hard to give him, letting him be raised by muggles. As hard as Hogwarts has tried to treat Harry as every other student, the ongoing machinations of Voldemort continue to confound him and interfere with his life.

"And that is simply FATE, Albus. It's not anything you did wrong, are doing wrong, or can do better. He is developing into a healthy young man of sterling character. That's a tremendous accomplishment considering. But his upbringing has built in him great strength. And all together, I believe we will raise a Wizard of remarkable character and power, a major force for good.

"I urge you to let the past lie, assess what we have in the present, and let us continue to press forward into a future. The issues of trust, authority, respect, obedience, love and responsibility... these elements of his childhood that need rebuilding, we will rebuild. He senses the deficiencies, and he hungers for restoration. But it is critically important that you forgive yourself and cease recriminations for decisions of the past, or your sense of remorse will be read by him as 'pity'. And for you, or Minerva, or even Severus to 'pity' him, would just put another label on him, and make him - in his own mind - another kind of 'freak'.

"Let that victim of the past go, and let's continue to educate the very fine young man we have in this present. Both for your sake, and especially for his. This..." he said, lifting the medical report... "this we can and will deal with. It will not reach him in the present. Let's keep all this in the past, both physically and in all the other ways that we can."

There was a long pause of companionable silence between them, as Albus pondered all that had been said. His eyes were closed as he considered, reviewed everything, and realized that this was the right way to proceed. At long last Albus looked up at Pavel with a new spark of resolution in his eyes.

"Very well, Pavel. Harry's past, just as my own, is gone now. He has an entirely new future ahead of him. Together, let us make the most of it," he nodded.

"Wonderful, my dear friend. Now, I should like you to consider doing me a huge service..." Pavel smiled.

"And what might that be?" Albus responded.

"Tonight, between 7 and 7:30, before John, Minerva, Severus, Hermione and Ron, I want to formalize the covenant of apprenticeship, the oath that will bind our lives together at least until Harry's majority, and perhaps beyond. And I'd like you to conduct that."

"It will be a privilege, Pavel," Albus solemnly replied. After which, they fell to discussing the elements and details of the evening.

* * *

At 7:00, immediately following supper, all the relevant parties were gathered in the Headmaster's office. Hermione looked a bit concerned, Ron even more so. Harry had butterflies in his stomach. He wasn't really "scared" as much as a bit "anxious" along with "excited". He felt a little like he did on his 11th birthday, when Hagrid knocked down the lighthouse door in the thunderstorm, gave him his first ever birthday cake, and put him astride his flying motorcycle to discover that he was a wizard and belonged in a school filled with magical people. He felt "on the brink" of something wondrous. Something he didn't really understand, but knew he wanted. This was another step into the magical unknown.

Albus had welcomed everyone warmly, affirming how pleased he was that they could come. He particularly welcomed Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, bidding them relax and be comfortable. Everyone sat in comfortable chairs and sofa, as Albus spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a very special occasion, and I am delighted that each of you can be here. We are invited to share in a very special moment in the lives of Professor Konstantyn and Mr. Potter. Please carry on, Professor."

"As you all now know, I have invited Harry to enter into apprenticeship with me. That is a very old, and very sacred relationship of trust between a Magister and his or her ward. Harry and I will commit our lives to one another at least until he reaches his majority, and perhaps beyond. Harry will become as family to me, and will grow and mature both in his magic and in his character. I will stand as a father to him, and he as a son to me, beyond merely teacher and pupil. Master Constantine, my son John, is wholly supportive of this development, and looks forward to playing a role in Harry's life.

"Harry asked if he could share this with you, Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley. You are as kin, as family, to him in his heart. I ask you now, have you any questions, concerns, or objections to our taking this step?"

Hermione said, "I think Harry has answered all of my important questions. There's a lot we don't fully know or understand yet. But Harry is very pleased and hopeful about this, and as to family... and taking care of Harry... well, this seems very good," and she turned to Ron to speak.

"Well, sir, I don't know as I understand much about the whole 'apprentice' thing, but I know Harry is happy when he's at Hogwarts, and at my house, and he really loves being with a family. The muggles he's been stuck with are miserable prats that don't care about him worth a fig. Now you seem a pretty good bloke, sir. And so does Master Constantine. If you can take care of him like you did Master Constantine, well, I'm all for it. Or I think I am..."

"What concerns you, Mr. Weasley," Pavel asked, still recovering from being called a 'pretty good bloke'.

"Well, sir. Harry's my best mate. And if he's not going to be around much any more, I'd miss him a lot."

"Thank you for asking. I don't see anything changing in your friendship, either one of you. You are, as you say, Harry's 'best mates' and you stick with him through thick and thin, and he with you. Harry will continue to study here at Hogwarts, he will live in Gryffindor tower just as always. Professor McGonagall will be, as ever, his Head of House. The principal difference will simply be that he will have a parent, a caring father, and a caring elder brother, as we work to nurture and hone both his magic, and his character. Mr. Weasley, I don't know that I've ever had a more eloquent endorsement. Thank you both.

"Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, is there anything you wish to know?"

"I only want to ask Mr. Potter if he is sure he is ready to make this commitment," Minerva asked in a kindly tone.

Harry smiled, and said, "I think I am, Professor. I know I don't understand everything about this yet. But I feel very certain, very sure, it's the right thing for me. Even though I'm sure there will be good and bad days with it. I want to be bonded with Professor Konstantyn until I'm on my own."

"That's good enough for me," Minerva said.

Severus only looked on without any expression of disapproval, and said, "Well put, Mr. Potter. Let's carry on."

Albus rose to his feet and drew his wand, and all present stood.

"Professor Konstantyn... Mr. Potter... please join your right hands." As they did so, the rest of the assembled company formed a circle around them, and a silvery thread exuded from the tip of the Elder Wand, winding itself around their joined hands and wrists.

"Pavel Konstantyn, will you accept Harry Potter as your apprentice and ward; providing entirely for him in both substance and character; teaching him the skills, disciplines, and artistry of magic; accompanying him in his journey whether in triumph or defeat; declaring him your mystical heir; and standing before all as responsible for him and his actions until he is declared legally adult?"

"I will," Pavel said, levelly.

"And will you embrace Harry as your son, providing him the care, understanding, consistency, discipline, and compassion needed to nurture him into manhood?"

"I will, I so swear."

"Harry Potter, do you accept the role of Apprentice to Magister Pavel Konstantyn, accepting his provision, endeavoring to learn to the best of your ability, honoring both his word and his will, in obedience to him as a son who honors his father?"

"I will," Harry said.

"Will you accept the loss of your independence, your liberty, and yield yourself to his authority, his discipline, his protection, and his love as your bond grows over time? And will you accept the bond including Master John Constantine as part of the family covenant you are entering, granting him the respect, regard, and authority due an elder adult brother?"

"I will, I so swear."

And upon that utterance, the silver cord glowed bright, and disappeared. Both Pavel and Harry smiled, then hugged for a moment. Then everyone was hugging... well, except for Professor Snape. He backed away slowly and inconspicuously. Harry still had no idea why the greasy git was there, but at this precise moment... he didn't care.

Pavel took a moment to distribute the Runic Medals, explain about the "stick" and "unstick" feature, and said as they were now a sort of "clan" or "family" in support of Harry, these medals would permit both instantaneous communication with himself, and also location tracking in any emergency.

With that, they all headed down to the gymnasium to celebrate, as Harry desperately wanted to have another go at dueling. John tousled Harry's hair, and said how really pleased he was to have a kid brother... and then quietly reminded him to turn off his body armor, before he entered a dueling lane.

"Papa checks that stuff," he whispered. "But far _MORE_ important... when you leave the gym, be certain you turn it back on. He checks _THAT_ stuff even more closely!" as John grinned ear to ear.

 _Harry thought to himself... "I think I'm gonna like this 'family' stuff," as he finished up a "perfect night" dueling before heading happily to bed walking with Ron and Hermione to Gryffindor Tower._


	24. Buying Harry Potter

**Buying Harry Potter**

Harry woke Saturday morning with the weirdest feeling. He was happy, because he knew he really " _belonged_ " somewhere and with someone. At the same time, there was this niggling fear in the back of his mind that it was all _"too good to be true"._

They still needed the Dursley's signature to make this all work, and he'd never been successful getting Uncle Vernon to sign anything important or good for him. It's like they always knew what would make him happy, and refused because he was a freak. On the other hand, it was awfully hard to imagine them standing up to the Professor and refusing him. Oh well, the exercise was learning to " _trust_ ", right? So might as well start here.

Harry made his way to the showers and got ready for the day, then put his vest on underneath his jeans, tee-shirt, and one of Mrs. Weasley's jumpers, before putting on his cloak. There was supposed to be a Quidditch practice today, as they got ready for the first match against Slytherin next week. He might have to defend his position as Seeker, in case anyone else wanted to try for it, but he figured he could handle that. He really looked forward to showing John - as he now thought of him - and the Professor what he could do on the Pitch.

Heading down to breakfast with Ron and Hermione, he again had that sort of "pinch himself" feeling, momentarily wondering if he were imagining it all. But no, he looked up at the Head table as he served himself some pancakes, bacon, eggs, and potatoes with his morning pumpkin juice... no, there they were, big as life, looking at him with a slight smile and nod. It was real.

Harry knew John would be coming outside to ride and patrol the grounds, riding all around the wards, watching that students didn't stray too far, checking the Black Lake, seeing to it young riders didn't go too high on their brooms, or attempt feats beyond their skill. He had also begun to teach other sports, like football and baseball. Some kids were taking advantage of the nice weather while it was still available, and playing catch or kicking a ball around.

Wood, captain of the Gryffindor team, came out with the quidditch chest and called the team together. They staked out a section of lawn, not needing the Quidditch Pitch yet, to just drill and warm up. Slytherin House had the Pitch booked for the next hour and a half, so Gryffindor figured they'd just drill and practice maneuvers, then take the Pitch in their turn.

The Professor left for Surrey right after breakfast, so Harry knew he wouldn't see him for a while yet, but he hoped he'd be back in time to see Harry practicing as Seeker on the Pitch. In the meantime, he'd just keep ducking bludgers. That reminded him... he put in his mouthpiece.

They had been playing for about an hour and a quarter, and decided to break for a bit and get a cool drink and maybe some biscuits. The Weasley Twins were doing a brisk business, having sussed out that thirsty athletes would rather pay a few knuts for a drink outside, than walk clear back to the castle refectory, where a beverage stand was always set up. Of course, the Twins GOT the cold drinks they sold from that free stand, but they thought of their fees as a "service and delivery charge".

So Harry had just had his drink when he saw Hagrid puttering around behind his cottage, and decided to go see how he was doing. As he flew that direction, he thought he saw something flash again out just beyond the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He probably ought to tell somebody, but... tell them what? He didn't know what "it" was yet.

Slowly, Harry passed by Hagrid's hut in the direction of the motion, dropped down to about 3 meters off the ground, and turned to try and get a sidelong look. It is hard to see things through trees from only one angle. Now, he was starting to hear something as well. It was a high shrill screeching sound, like something in trouble or in pain. As he followed the sound, he was getting further and further away from Hagrid or anyone else.

In the distance, he could hear Wood blow his whistle calling the team together to go practice on the Quidditch Pitch, but he had to find out what was wrong here. It would only take a moment or two. He'd be right there.

Everyone gathered around Wood except Harry, which irritated him because it was holding up practice. Wood called out sharply... "Potter! Oy Potter! C'mon mate, where are you?" and other players began gaining altitude to look around for him.

John was instantly alerted when he heard the calls. Where the heck WAS he anyway? Damn... Rapidly he started rising and flying outward spirals, searching for some sign of Potter. He then closed his eyes and extended his senses, keying on his sympathetic "kid brother" connection... and sensed... Forest Edge, not far from Hagrid's Hut. John still couldn't see him, and that concerned him, but he just pushed his speed into overdrive and sped to where he thought he'd find Harry.

Harry, in the meantime, could see a screaming unicorn colt, leg trapped in a snare, bucking and pawing at the injury while it oozed its silver blood all over the ground and the trap. It was in a little clearing of a hollow about 5 meters inside the Forest just beyond the boundary wards. At the other edge of the clearing, he could see two adult unicorns, a stallion and mare, presumably the parents, fussing and prancing, unwilling to come out into the clearing. There was no one close to help, he couldn't see Hagrid anywhere... so...

He landed at the shimmering boundary of the protective wards and pushed his way into the molasses feel of the barrier. _Was this allowed? No. He'd be in huge trouble if he was caught. But it would only take a moment to free the poor little thing's hoof, and it might bleed to death otherwise. He wasn't going far, and he'd be back before he was missed. "No one will ever know," he convinced himself, resolved to do this rescue. Outside the wards now, he mounted his broom and rapidly flew to the colt_.

In the next few, brief, seconds, a number of things happened - it seemed simultaneously.

First, he heard John's voice scream inside his head, _"Harry! NO!"_ But before he could turn or respond, the three unicorns changed form into burly men that looked like they belonged to a biker gang. They shouted to one another in some language he didn't understand, and pointed wands at him binding him in leglocker and muting him. Then, Harry could see two men on brooms coming towards him from the deeper part of the forest, wands drawn, as they cast " _Stupefy!_ " on two of the thugs. The third thug grabbed Harry, and suddenly his head swam while his stomach tried to curl around his ankles. He was suddenly faint, incredibly dizzy, and nauseous beyond belief. The Forest faded around him, then became clear again, then faded... it was horrible. Then, from behind him, he heard John's voice cry out " _Stupefy_!" and paralyze this last thug, and Harry started to fall.

Before he could hit the ground, he heard the Professor's voice say, "I've got you, Harry. You're all right now," as the Professor caught him and carried him back inside the wards, laying him down on the soft, warm grass. _"Finite Incantatem",_ the Professor said softly, aiming his wand at Harry. Harry promptly tried to sit up, then rolled over away from the Professor and vomited into the grass instead.

"Papa, we need you a moment," John called out, with a tone of urgency, but not panic.

"I'll be right there. Strip them, remove any talismans, and check for brands, tattoos, runes and wards. Negate them." _He then sent his mental voice to Minerva, "Professor McGonagall?"_

 _"Yes, Paul?" came the slightly startled response, though she knew of and had used this form of communication before._

 _"Would you please come out here and take charge of Mr. Potter. He's had a bit of an accident, and I'd like you to see him to the infirmary."_ He then showed her mind's eye exactly where they were, knowing she would be there in mere seconds, which she was.

"Thank you. He's been hexed and been through a few aborted apparation attempts. Please have Poppy check him out, and perhaps you can stay with him until I get there? He'll be all right. I'll explain shortly."

"Verra well," she replied, taking him at his word and levitating the boy up to the castle to Madame Pomfrey's.

Pavel joined his son, saw the minions of Petrov, and knew they had not more than a minute, before they'd lose them entirely. Petrov was no fool, and a minion, once caught, no longer had value to him so was disposed of.

Shifting his vision to be able to see the threads of sympathetic connection, the binding cords tying these thugs to their master, Pavel worked to break them, sever them. The tricky bit was to sever them without allowing them to cling or attach to himself. Just as Petrov would shortly send a lethal bolt of mind or body magic up these cables, to destroy his henchmen... so too Pavel could potentially use them to "reach out and touch" Petrov. The risk was too great, insufficient back up in place, it could come down to a one on one match, and for Petrov to possess or overpower Pavel ran unacceptable risk for everyone and everything here, especially Potter.

But Petrov was already working in the lines. His force was making its way along the "wires" to fry these men, and Pavel was hard pressed trying to sever three at one time. John entered his mind, saw and completely understood the situation, and decided on a plan to assist his father. Papa wouldn't like it, but there was no time for debate.

Rapidly, John let his fingernails become talons, as he slashed each thug just enough for the wound to bleed freely. With each hand, he reached out and let his palms be painted with their blood, one thug at a time, and paused a moment while the blood was instantly absorbed into his own flesh. Once he had all three, he had their bindings to Petrov as well, causing each of the connecting cords to split into two... so where his father had been dealing with three cables, he now had twice as many... BUT... they were only half as substantial.

In horror, his father looked up at him, seeing him in many dimensions at once. John, using his dhampir prerogatives, had "become" them in part. He was now pushing his force back through the connection, even though John had taken on a substantial dose of "darkness" into himself. Paul could feel the strain John was under, as he resisted all the dark urges that flowed through him.. ** _. "rip", "shred", "fly", "kill",_** ... and worse, and forced resistance through the thread, periodically "swallowing" some of the force sent.

Paul was furious to realize two things. First, John's strategy here was to confound and exhaust Petrov. Second, John had moved past his own exit strategy or "drop dead" point, and placed his faith entirely on Pavel to complete the severance before he, John, was overcome and/or killed. There was no energy or time to spare on anger now. Pavel focused on severing each thread, from the weakest to the strongest, hoping when Petrov was pushed hard enough, John would be able to help sever the last ones.

All of this was done soundlessly, and at the speed of thought. No one, like the operatives standing guard over the captives, had a real understanding what was happening. They knew, to some extent, theoretically. And they could just see the "sparkles and fireworks" going off near the captives. But they could not get near the actual phenomena, and were exceedingly grateful this was not their job.

The entire battle took less than one minute, but was ultimately won. The connections were severed, John opened himself fully to Pavel and allowed himself to be fully purged of shadow, and Pavel then cast a time stasis charm over the captives, which would hold them more securely than simple paralysis. Paul waved his wand, redressing the captives in their clothes and examined the contents of all their pockets without touching them. All these men knew better than to touch anything with their own bodies, not to allow any resonance, harmonics, or accidental sympathies to generate.

Paul and John were still a bit out of breath as the Professor turned to Jason to say, "Mr. Constantine is on report. Contact the Division Director, and have a containment team sent here to pick these three up. They are in temporal stasis for the next three hours which should be more than sufficient. Who is the current Inquisitor in the department?"

"Oxsana... Oxsana Brezynski, sir," Jason replied.

"Good. She is a fine Inquisitor and skilled in the Time arcanum as well. She will harvest any usable information they have. Please have any results forwarded to us as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir," Jason nodded as John headed back to his broom.

"Don't even _think_ about flying right now, John. You're walking back to the Castle with me. First, we will check on Mr. Potter, and then we will head to the Great Hall to face the music with Minerva and Albus and bring them up to speed."

John started to groan when his father said he could not fly, but realizing he was still a bit weak and dizzy, aside from which he'd never won a "grounded" argument with Pavel in his life, walking in the warm sunshine looked pretty good to him.

"Nice entrance there with Potter, by the way, Papa. Very dramatic!" John quipped.

"Don't get me started on that John. I am very interested indeed on how you let him leave the grounds and enter the Forest in the first place."

"Oh, come on, Papa. You don't seriously think I _'let him'_ do any such thing! Those mongrels set a trap... a wounded helpless unicorn colt bleeding and stuck in a snare, frightened parents trumpeting for help across the clearing. Harry chose to rescue, thinking it wasn't far, wouldn't be long, and no one would ever know."

"Ah, how well we know all those words, eh, Ivan?" Pavel shook his head and smiled. He himself, Ivan, and countless other champion types, when they got in serious trouble, had used one or more of those phrases as they let themselves be overcome by adrenalin and poor judgment. "Well, my son, his training may as well begin with a song we all know so well."

"Try not to be angry, Papa."

"John, you know damn well I am furious. At him, for disobedience and unjustifiable risk. At you, for losing sight of him - which I admit is grossly unfair, so ignore that. At your men, for not having known those mongrels were sitting there laying the trap - which is equally unfair, so ignore that as well. At myself, for not having made my predawn run this morning and catching those pieces of trash - which is foolish arrogance on my part.

"So say what you like about not being angry, but I am right now so far past angry it's hardly worth considering. And as for you, with that stunt of blood magic..." he stopped and stared at his son as they stood on the grassy hill almost to the castle entrance... "No. No. I AM angry, Ivan... therefore, this is not the time for this discussion. After action analysis, evaluation of decisions made, will wait until I am calm and reasonable, and can weigh each factor fairly. For now, let's see how your 'kid brother' is faring."

John and Pavel walked into the Infirmary and headed over to the bed where Poppy and Minerva were standing over Harry, arguing about whether he could leave yet or not. Well, it wasn't so much an argument. It was a simple exchange of Harry asking please to be let out to go, and them saying no, he was to wait for Professor Konstantyn to arrive.

Pavel raised his voice to call merrily across the otherwise empty room, "Ah dear ladies, is our young man here being difficult?"

"Ah, Professor, good to see you," Minerva smiled. "Well, I'd not so much say 'being difficult' as much as being a bit 'antsy'. I think he's craving the wide open spaces, and we're impeding his way."

"Really," Pavel smiled, truly relieved to see that Harry looked fine and fully recovered. Getting to his bedside, he asked, "How is your stomach now?"

"Fine, sir. I'm fully recovered. I just want to get on, if that's all right."

"I'm sure you do. I don't think that will be much of an issue, in a few moments. Madame Pomfrey, how are his internal organs, any chance of injury there?"

Poppy knit her brows as she examined him again, letting her wand cast a blue colored light in sort of a prism shape.

"No, Professor, he really is completely all right. Every system, I've checked thoroughly," Poppy assured them.

"Excellent. That is a great relief. Thank you. Now, I cannot be certain his cheerful attitude of 'all right with the world' will persist, but please remain here a moment.

"Mr. Potter, please stand up, and explain to me, to Professor McGonagall, and Madame Pomfrey, not to mention John... exactly how you got here. Absolute truth, and leave nothing out."

"Oh..." Harry stood, and found himself examining his trainers with great care, "that..."

"Yes, Harry," the Professor's voice dropped softer... "that."

The silence was deafening.

After waiting a more than sufficient time, Pavel said, "well, as far as the part I am aware of, Madame Pomfrey, the reason I wanted that internal check, was that Mr. Potter has had the rare experience of entering into no less than three aborted apparations... being drawn into the nexus, then spat back out. He was leg locked, then muffled. He was handled by a creature of darkness as evil as any Deatheater you've ever known... Ah, let me see, did I miss anything, Mr. Potter?"

Harry continued to examine his shoe tips. Throughout this calm, quiet, recitation, Professor's McGonagall's eyebrows arched ever higher. One more revelation, Harry feared it would climb into her hat. He knew he should probably start talking now, but somehow, his voice just wouldn't come.

Pavel went on, "Oh yes... did I mention that all this adventure was taking place in the Forbidden Forest, in a clearing well beyond the school bounds? Over on Hagrid's side of the grounds?"

"Professor McGonagall?" Pavel inquired calmly, turning towards her, standing there in that same three piece muggle suit, holding the same leather attache case, that he'd used on is visit to the Dursleys. "Am I correct in believing that our Mr. Potter stands in violation of a school rule or two?"

"You are, _indeed_!" she huffed, and from her tone Harry knew this was not going to be good.

"Is this the sort of thing that one would expect you to send a note home to parents or guardians, for any necessary 'follow-up' or 'affirmation' of your discipline or sanctions?"

"It is, Professor. Why do you ask?"

"When you address that note, be sure it comes to me. Mr. Potter no longer has the advantage of far-away disinterested muggle guardians who know or care nothing about his school performance or deportment. The paperwork is signed, sealed, and delivered. And you can ask John... I've always prided myself on being a very _'concerned and involved'_ parent. I leave Mr. Potter in your capable hands, and will look forward to your note. And I'll see all shortly at luncheon."

At which Paul walked away to change into far more comfortable clothes.


	25. Disobedience, Defiance, the Difference

**Disobedience, Defiance, the Difference**

Poor Harry had very little appetite for lunch. He'd been told that he was assuredly NOT permitted to rejoin his Quidditch team for practice in the Pitch, when they finally let him out of the Infirmary. Both Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey made clear to him how foolish his behavior had been, the risks he had run, and how fortunate he was that he'd emerged from the event unscathed. John just stood on the side and said nothing, though he did cast a sympathetic look or two Harry's way.

Professor McGonagall didn't even tell him what his punishment would be, she just took 25 points from Gryffindor and told him to come to her office at 2:00. Almost two more hours... he hated the suspense. John stayed as Professor McGonagall left and Madame Pomfrey walked back to her office.

"You ok, lad? Really?" John asked.

"Yeah, really. I'm ok now. I was really sick and all trembling at first though. What happened to me? What was all that?"

"I'm sure Papa will explain more when you and he 'chat', but basically those were bad guys trying to take you somewhere else. They set an almost irresistible trap for someone like you, and you stepped in it. They tried to apparate you out of there, to 'take you to their leader'. But that stuff, that armor and the medallion, block apparation in a number of ways. They didn't expect that, so that gave us the chance to catch them, which we did. Good job on that, Harry."

They walked on towards the Great Hall.

"John?" Harry started, then interrupted himself, "can I call you 'John' now, by the way?"

John smiled. " _'may I call'_ ," John corrected. "And yes, sure you may, when you're talking to me as your brother. I'm 'Master Constantine' when we are in public, or in front of students, or when I'm working as an Instructor. Just as I call Papa 'Professor' in those circumstances. It's just good manners."

"Well, I wanted to ask you... Am I in trouble? With your Dad, I mean?"

"Oh, yes, Harry. You are. But I promise you'll live, anyway. He's never lost a student yet." John smiled.

"But now... well... he's going to treat me like _'his kid'_ , right? Not just like any other student."

"Very true, yes."

"Um, John?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"What would he do to you, if you did this?"

John smiled broadly, "I presume you don't just want me to say, _'I wouldn't have done this'_ , right?" Harry pulled a face. "Well, to be perfectly honest, back there in the Forest, as we took care of that situation, it happens I _DID_ something that he disapproves of. In fact, it's very possible that he's just as angry at me right now, as he is at you. So, it may help you to realize that right at this moment, we are almost literally in the same boat."

"OK. Oddly enough, that _actually does_ make me feel better. So, are you scared? Of what he'll do or say?"

"No. And you don't need to be scared either. He doesn't mean you ill, but good, Harry. You disobeyed him in will and word. That will have some consequence you won't like," John shrugged. "But it doesn't mean you have to be afraid. You can know, absolutely as certainly as the sun will rise in the east tomorrow morning, that if you disobey him, and he finds out about it... he will confront that and there will be a consequence, a response. Just like when I called him to you, seeing that you were in danger, he was _there_ and his arms wrapped around you not to fall, and to carry you back inside the wards where you were safe. It's all one thing, Harry, the certainty that he will enforce his rules, and the equal certainty that he will spare no effort to protect you from harm and take proper care of you.

"Sometime this afternoon I will have to justify my actions. I believe I was right, while Papa believes what I did was an unjustified risk. It _was_ unspeakably risky... the question is whether that was justifiable or not. If I cannot show that my judgment was professionally appropriate, then he will deem that I have violated my mandate, my job, and there will be some unpleasant consequence to that. That's true simply because he and I, and those we work with are _'mutually accountable'_ , we confront ourselves and one another for the quality of our work and the wisdom of our judgments. We can do this because we trust each other and depend on each other. So, I believe, and I hope, that I will prevail that my judgment call was sound, reasonable, and justified. But if I fail... well, I'm ok with that, too. There's no one here to 'fear'.

"Does that make any sense, Harry?"

"Sort of, John. But I'm still scared. I wish I could feel like you do, that confident that everything will be all right..." Harry paused, mulling this all over. "You don't suppose he'll want to be rid of me, do you? Like, I'm _'too much trouble to be worth it'?_ You say you're in trouble with him for doing something dangerous with those men. Could you have been hurt, or... worse?"

"Yes, Harry. I could have. But that's not 'because' of you. That's because of the job I do, that we'll discuss later sometime, and that I deal with men like that a lot. Your action just triggered this episode, which flushed them out of hiding, which was, in fact, a great service to me. But more important is that you now understand the depth and permanence of your relationship with us. Remember that 'silver cord' that wrapped around your hand with Papa last night?"

"Yes."

"That is a permanent binding oath. Magic Itself has witnessed and bound you together, in fate, in heart, in accountability. A parent, a proper parent, has that binding from biology or other legal commitment to the care of their child. Their hearts weave together in the very fabric of magic. That parent will hurt when you hurt, comfort when you fear, guard and protect, and guide into character even against your temper. _It is a state of being, not a sentiment or a mood to come and go._ Nothing you can ever do or say, from this point as long as that binding holds - which will be until you are adult or perhaps even beyond that - would or even _CAN_ make him want to 'be rid of you'. You don't need to understand all of that, and I know you probably cannot yet believe it, but I need you at least to _'hear'_ it... right here, right now. So, do you get that?"

"Yeah..." Harry replied, eyes unfocusing off into the distance as he tried to comprehend it. "Yeah, I hear you."

"Good, because it's time to eat, and I'm now 'Master Constantine' again." John smiled as he entered the Great Hall and made his way to the Head Table, leaving Harry to go try to explain things to his friends at his Gryffindor seat.

He told Ron and Hermione the whole, unvarnished truth... from the first flash in the distance, to the conversations in the Infirmary. He even tried to recap the conversation with John. Predictably, Hermione was furious with him. ' _He could have been killed! He could have been kidnapped! He could have been maimed!'_ She sounded like Mrs. Weasley chiding her brood. Ron, equally predictably, wasn't concerned about any of that, but honed in instantly on what Harry agreed was the really significant danger here at this point.

"Coo, mate. I bet the old man is hopping mad."

"I have no doubt of that. I could see it and hear it. He kinda gets 'quieter' when he's angry, you notice?"

"Yeah, I have," Ron nodded. "Harry, you don't suppose... I mean with that oath and all... You don't suppose he might," Ron swallowed hard, "well, _wallop_ you, do ya? I know if it was _my_ mum or dad, and they got a note like that from McGonagall... well, it'd be the wooden spoon or worse."

Harry nodded, he knew the Weasley's and knew that was true. What he didn't know, was how this was going to play out in his new arrangement, his new "family". "I know what you mean, Ron. And I'm worried about that, too. But even when I could see he was really mad, there with McGonagall and Pomfrey, he was truly more concerned that I was all right. So, I've just decided, I'm not going to worry about it. Even if I get a walloping, well... I earned it, and it's my own fault. Besides, he's nothing like Uncle Vernon. So... I'll just wait and get through, whatever."

Hermione and Ron nodded, commiserating with their friend. Harry realized that nervous or not, he'd lost his breakfast, and as things were settling down now, he was hungry. So conversation died out as he started to serve himself food, building a simple sandwich without too much to it, just in case the butterflies in his stomach objected to being fed.

Professor Konstantyn smiled, as he had eavesdropped on the children's conversation. Harry was progressing even faster than he'd thought possible. It wasn't "trust" yet. Not full blown. But it was a very strong beginning in that direction. The boy's heart was so clean and hungry. It may not take long at all for the fear and self-doubt instilled by the Dursleys to be washed away.

He recounted the Dursley encounter over his meal, reviewing the events with Severus, Minerva, Albus, and John...

* * *

Yesterday he had "phoned" the Dursley home and spoken with Petunia. He introduced himself as "Dr. Konstantyn" and implied that he was an official with the muggle ministry of education. He said that Harry had performed unexpectedly in some routine educational achievement tests, and they wanted him to take part in a research study for "special needs students".

Dr. Konstantyn wanted to make an appointment to see Mr. and Mrs. Dursley the next morning - which he made a supernaturally appealing prospect through the influence of mind magic - because the study was very nearly beginning, and they'd need his guardians' consent for Harry's long-term participation. They would, of course, be paid substantial consideration for the loss of his company and companionship. Dr. Konstantyn understood that for the boy no longer to be available for holiday visits and summer residence would doubtless be a hardship to their family.

Petunia was clearly delighted with the conversation, and assured Dr. Konstantyn that she and her husband Vernon would be happy to receive him at their home the next morning. It would be no trouble as it was Saturday, and perhaps he could join them for elevenses. Dr. Konstantyn maintained his professional clinical air, as he confirmed the appointment saying they should expect him to arrive along with an accompanying Notary, as there were some consent and permission forms to be signed.

 _DING - DONG_

"Good _Morning_! Dr. Konstantyn, I presume? Please _welcome_ to our home!" Petunia gushed, opening the door to the Professor as he stood there in his neat navy blue three piece suit, white shirt, regimental tie - which he was actually authorized to wear, black dress oxford shoes, black thick-rimmed spectacles, carrying his black leather attache. The Notary standing just behind him was also professionally dressed in shades of gray. Petunia stepped out of the way, ushering them into her _"lounge"_ , where they encountered Vernon.

"Thank you, Mrs. Dursley," Pavel said, being heard by the Dursleys to speak with a perfect professional London accent. This was artificial, a charm applied to enhance his credibility, but would have shocked his students to hear as it was so unlike his native tones. "This is Mr. Bellingham, who will see that all the legal details are attended to."

"Vernon Dursley here," the monstrous lump of a man walked towards them extending his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you Doctor, Mr. Bellingham," he nodded to them both with an unctuous smile contorting his face. Konstantyn felt vaguely ill just to be in this man's presence. "Now, please have a seat. Petunia will serve us some refreshments, and tell us all about this wonderful opportunity you seem to have available for our poor nephew, Harry. He's an _orphan_ , you know. We took him in out of the _kindness of our hearts_. But it's wonderful to see that the proper ministry has identified him as having special needs. He does indeed. You mentioned something of a 'stipend' for us? An 'honorarium' of sorts?"

"Yes," Pavel thought to himself, their despicable natures and greed will make it easy to free Harry from them. That was a relief. If they actually had a moment of care or concern for the boy's welfare, this could be much more complicated.

"Well, yes, we'd like to acquire Harry as a test subject, a research subject, in a study we are conducting on new educational methods with certain, erm... 'problem' children. Our facilities are quite remote and secure, up north. And the research project will require complete isolation from his family of origin. As there may be pharmaceuticals or other... um... therapeutic interventions involved in our behavior management, we need to have complete authority and legal custodianship over the lad. You, of course, will remain his only surviving 'family', but you will waive all your prerogatives regarding that, until he reaches his majority.

"This contract," as Pavel withdrew three copies of legal foolscap with blue coversheets from the attache, "specifies all the terms of the agreement. There are some checkboxes here, to be initialed by you before the final signatures, reflecting choices you prefer to make about your relationship with the boy and the extent of your financial compensation. There are also some Consent Forms and Permission Slips to be signed. You will see that the contracts all identify me as the party of interest, since I am Principle Investigator of the study. It's just simpler that way."

"Ah, here we are then," Vernon eyed the documents hungrily.

Pavel then removed three certified cheques made out to the Dursleys in three different amounts. They were drawn on the Barclay's Bank in the amounts of: 37,500 pounds, 150,000 pounds, and 165,000 pounds. They all carried today's date, and were assuredly genuine. Pavel laid them out clearly on the table alongside the copies of the contract and other forms. Vernon licked his lips as he perused the bank draughts, but knit his brows seeing the differences of amount.

"You will select one of these, by the options you choose. You may contract for an annual payment of 37,500 pounds each year for the next eight years, and this contract must be renewed annually. If so, this would be your first payment. Or, you could choose to make this an enduring authorization and custodial transfer, so that it would require no renewal across its full term of eight years. That would entitle you a lump sum payment right now, of 50% of the contract value, or 150,000 pounds. Should you decide you want the boy to return to your home and your care, you could potentially revoke the contract during its term, and refund the prorated amount of the settlement. Or, particularly if you are certain that this arrangement will suit your needs, you may decide to execute this contract as 'Durable and Irrevocable' in which case you will be entitled to 165,000 pounds, and you need never see Harry or myself again. We'll have no need to renew the contract, and we'll all go our way."

As anticipated, Vernon reached for the largest cheque, examined it closely, and then turned to Pavel inquiring, "Where did you say we sign again?"

Paul sat back to allow the Notary to do his work. It was his duty not only to attest the veracity and validity of the signatures, but also to see to it that all parties clearly understood the terms of what they were signing. He began to drink his tea, squeezing a lemon wedge into the porcelain cup, noting that for barbaric guardians, at least Petunia brewed a good cup of tea. Paul observed that while Vernon's interest was entirely invested in hearing how to collect his funds, Petunia seemed more alert and observant of himself. She asked a question or two about Harry and the nature of the contract and the facility he would live in. Vernon "shushed" her, of course, but clearly she had some concerns.

As the Notary came to the places for their initials, there was no hesitation. All the contract copies were rapidly checked and initialed as the Dursleys opted to make these arrangements durable and irrevocable. That was a major relief. When the final page, the signatures was reached, Paul reached across and crisply signed all pages in his neat and elegant script, then passed the paperwork and pen over to Vernon and Petunia, sitting alongside her husband.

Petunia stood, grasped Vernon's arm, and said, "would you excuse us for just a moment? We need to have a word."

Pavel nodded as if making a generous gesture, as Vernon objected to the delay.

"We don't need 'a word', dear. We're keeping these busy gentlemen. _Just sign the papers!_ " this last he hissed at her through gritted teeth masked by a cardboard smile.

"No, Vernon! Come here a moment. I want to _talk_ to you!" and as he could see there was nothing for it but to humor her, he allowed her to drag him around the staircase, hallway, corner and into the kitchen out of sight.

"What's _wrong_ with you, woman! Here's our chance to be rid of that freak, along with gaining a substantial bit of capital!"

" _That's_ what's wrong with all this, Vernon. Isn't this all just a bit too neat, too quick, too pat? What do we really _KNOW_ about this man or this study? How do we know he's telling the truth, and isn't some sort of... of... oh, I don't know... white _slaver_ or something?"

Pavel was absolutely shocked overhearing all of this from his sofa seat. He was impressed beyond words that she, at least, had enough concern for second thoughts. He had a backup contingency plan if he had to provide _bona fides_ , but he'd thought it only the wildest of unlikely probabilities that he would have to use those resources. He continued to listen as this played out.

"Petunia, that boy and his freaky friends and school, have been the bane of our lives since he showed up on our doorstep like someone's unwanted trash. He's trouble and always has been. What do we know of this doctor? We know he wants to take Harry away and keep him away! That's good enough for me. Do you want Harry here, near Dudley, as dangerous as he can be? What else we know, is that this doctor will pay good money if we sign Harry over to him. We can use that money, we can. As for white slavers? I doubt it, but if that's what this is about, I say good luck to them. They're more likely to get blown up by that brat, as see any profit! _Now sign those damned papers, or you'll live to regret it!_ " this last in a low threatening growl that made clear that violence in this house was not limited just to Harry.

They walked back, Petunia a bit sheepishly, as Vernon again put on a far too toothy grin. Together they sat and signed and initialed every page and line indicated by the Notary, both contracts and forms. The Notary took out his seal and attested to everything, then folded up one of the contracts, wrapped a piece of red ribbon around it to secure it closed, and handed it to the Dursleys for their records. He also handed them the check for 165,000 pounds.

Paul removed one last form, a vial from his case, rose from his seat, and addressed Petunia. "Madame, would you be kind enough to show me to your washroom?"

Petunia started simply to point the way, but seeing Vernon utterly absorbed in the bank draught, Paul gave her a quick look with a shake of the head as he walked towards the hall beckoning her silently. She looked a bit confused or concerned, but went along, leading the way down the hall to the toilet.

Dropping is voice to inaudible, and using mostly mind magic to speak, he said, "I understand that Harry is actually your nephew, son of your sister, correct?" She nodded. "Our study includes some genetic research, so I would ask for a sample of your blood, which I can acquire quite painlessly. Here is your consent form, and a check for you alone for 5,000 pounds. I thought perhaps you would prefer this to be private from your husband."

She stepped into the bathroom, put the form on the vanity, and signed with the pen Paul provided. He handed her the check, pressed the vial against her arm, and watched it fill with blood while she felt nothing at all. He thanked her as she left, tucking the check into her bodice, and he closed the door to wash his hands for the sake of appearances.

All business finished, she saw them out as Vernon took the papers to his study to file away. As they left, Paul took her hand as though in polite farewell, looked deeply into her eyes and helped her know and believe the following, although she would never remember exactly how she knew this: _"Harry is safe and he will be fine. You need not fear for him. His life is now becoming infinitely better than when he was with you and Vernon. Be comforted now, whenever you think of him and of your sister."_

And with that, he turned away with the Notary, and heard the door shut behind him. He'd hardly taken a step when he heard John's urgent call in his head, "Papa! Danger! Harry! Get to him NOW!" In that same moment John was streaking - wand drawn - towards that last standing Petrov thug abortively trying to apparate Harry away. Pavel instantly blinked to Harry, reaching him before he'd even fallen, as John rendered his assailant inert.

* * *

"Now, you all know everything. There is the current state of matters. The Blood Wards are intact, but Harry is, for the next eight years at least, as much my son as John here," and he smiled up at John saying this. "By the way, very nice work with our 'friends' outside. Extend my compliments to your team. I was a bit too... distracted at the time to extend praise."

"Understood, Papa. They've known you a long time, too," John laughed. "But I will tell them as you wish."

Minerva asked, "So, Paul. How would you like me to handle this with Potter at 2:00?"

"My dear Professor," he began with a chuckle, "in this I am but a 'parent', rather than participant. I leave your house discipline entirely to your own judgment. But frankly, I'd like him to be treated, to the extent it is possible, just like any other boy in the school. How would you deal with any second year? What would you do with, say, Ron Weasley were it he?"

She thought a moment, "I would assign him 3 days detention with Mr. Filch - which is a rather severe penalty, along with the note home, which I know would not go unnoticed by a long chalk. But for Potter the stakes are so much higher, Paul"

"They are from our perspective, Minerva, but not so much from his. He 'broke the bounds'. He broke the rules, intending to do a good and right thing, and was caught out of bounds. He was out of order, and he should face the music for that. But he was 'disobedient', ignoring a rule and authority he knew was appropriate, and that is being dealt with. But that's a far cry from being ' _defiant_ ', when a child is right there locking horns with you, can look you in the eye and say _'I ain't gonna, and you can't make me!'_ Defiance like that, locked in adrenaline and self-will, is potentially deadly, and should such a situation ever arise with Harry, he will not and must not win out in that. _Disobedience_ , on the other hand, is far more common, subject to a vast array of factors, and we'll deal with on a case-by-case basis."

"Paul, he could have been KILLED, as could you, or John, or those fine young men out there!" Minerva objected.

"Yes, but that is _'adult business'_. Business that unfortunately Potter has had to be subjected to, and will continue to be. But those are not factors that I want foremost on his day to day mind. When he approaches a school boundary, I want him to heed the boundary because that is what is required of him. That is his duty, his obedience. He must stop having to look at every act of wilfulness or misbehavior asking himself, _'will this get me or someone else murdered!?'_ All that is part and parcel with TheBoyWhoLives, which I have adopted him to escape.

"It's ironic, in fact. I'm suggesting that you administer Potter exactly the same penalty as any other like student. When I get your note, I intend to deal with him just as I expect any parent would deal with such a note, given his history and circumstances. Now, the question is whether such 'childish' responses are appropriate given his real-world risks and danger? Fair question.

"But think a moment. What he went through, in the real world hands of that gangster, terrified him, paralyzed him, and sickened him into the grass. He was bodily twisted and pulled to the point of throwing up. Now, if I, even having the 'right' to do so, were to punish ANY child to the extent of such physical stresses, we would all agree that would be abuse. Natural Law has already done that to Potter. He already understands, fully and completely, the 'real world' implications of his misbehavior. He's already 'taken that punishment'. I don't have to add to that, or to his guilt about John and me doing our jobs. Fate has already administered all the 'serious' punishment he needs along that line.

"What I intend to deal with is the little boy who got in trouble in school for ignoring the rules and breaking the bounds. That's a much less serious crime than the Petrov matter. Do you see?" he looked at Minerva truly hoping she could understand what he was saying.

"I do, Paul. And heaven bless ye for thinking that way. You're right, of course. The wee tyke carries far too much 'serious' around on his shoulders. But he just frightens me to death... that was SUCH a close call," she heaved a sigh of relief and trepidation at the same time.

"Agreed," Pavel laughed. "And you're so right about one thing, Minerva. He's a handful, make no mistake. But if it means he takes up permanent residence in detention, he will come around. I know he will, and our persistence and consistency will make that all the faster and easier for him."

"Aye, if we all survive the process..." Minerva laughed.

"Yes, there's that..." and they all laughed together.


	26. Coming Home

**Coming Home**

Harry Potter was having his first ever opportunity to learn something known by generations of children before him. Since in the Dursley house, punishment was always a raging expression of immediate explosive anger, he had never had to "wait for it" before. It was just "there"... "boom". Now, however, he was discovering the unpleasant truth that the only thing that may be worse than _getting_ punished, was _waiting_ to get punished. He had seen Ron, or others of his friends go through this, but had never experienced it for himself.

Two o'clock finally arrived, and Harry walked miserably into Professor McGonagall's office and classroom. He stood stoically in front of her desk as she made extremely clear her philosophy on "school rules", the "breaking" of school rules, and the consequences borne by those who chose to break school rules. The "boundary wards" were a rule, a commandment, not a recommendation or a suggestion.

She then made him disclose exactly what happened, what his thought and decision process was, and how he could and should have handled the situation differently. She only prompted when she felt he was minimizing or hiding something.

When he had finished, and she was satisfied, she told him he was to have three days of detention, of one hour each, working for Mr. Filch on whatever chore he assigned. She walked to her desk to examine his class schedule, assigning the detentions for Monday, Wednesday, and Friday of the next week, from 3:00 to 4:00 each of those days. She said she'd considered suspending him from the Quidditch Team, and having him sit out the Slytherin game next week... which caused him to gasp in alarm and nearly speak out of turn.

"But..." she raised her finger, saving him from this mistake as he refrained from talking... "I've decided instead to see how you behave this coming week. If there are no more infractions, you may practice with the team and play in the game. However... if there is any more foolishness..."

Which caused him earnestly to shake his head and volunteer, "Oh, no, Professor. There won't be. I promise."

"Verra well, then. We'll see," and she turned back to the papers she was grading when he had come in. "You're dismissed, Mr. Potter."

Harry stood there, hesitating...

"You may _GO_ , Mr. Potter."

"Um, Professor?" he didn't move as he addressed her timidly.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Did you have a note you wanted me to take to Professor Konstantyn?"

She smiled. "No, Mr. Potter. I shall see to its delivery myself. It is not typical to send a note home to parents about a child's misbehavior, via the child him or herself. It's a bit too easy for _'accidents to happen'_ if you catch my meaning. Now, you may go."

"Yes, ma'am," and the youngster turned a bit miserably and left.

Minerva watched him exit from under the brim of her hat, and smiled gently realizing, "well, he certainly took that and reacted like naught more than a simple 'little boy'. Pavel's approach may just help the lad yet." She then took out a small piece of parchment and began composing exactly the note for Pavel that she would write if this were going to Molly and Arthur Weasley about Ron.

* * *

Paul and John were in the Residential Tower, doing some "refurbishing and interior design". After lunch the Konstantyn's had taken a few minutes to speak with Albus, to see if there was any objection to moving John to the apartment next to Pavel's, and if they could adjust walls and space to make a "room" for Harry. Albus had already offered Pavel a full time permanent teaching position, and that had been accepted, with the provision that from time to time he may travel to teach limited seminars or conferences. Since all of them had seen the home conditions Harry had lived under, including being granted "Dudley's second bedroom", Albus was all for the idea that Pavel and John could make a real bedroom for Harry, converting the Konstantyn/Constantine apartments into a suite.

It was rather amazing watching them work together on such a project. Pavel's masteries were in mind, forces, and time arcana. He was nearly to mastery in Prime... the essence of magic itself. While John could never attain the fullness of a mage's absolute mastery, he was highly skilled... more skilled than Pavel... in matter, space, and death arcana. So, as they began their project, both of them walked to the stone walls of Hogwarts in their apartments, and "communed" with the spirit of the stone and the magic of Hogwarts. Not to make their intentions clear, and offer the castle the opportunity to "grant permission" seemed... rude. The castle seemed delighted, and the spirits of the stones offered themselves willingly to form a protective and restful space for one of their students who'd never known such comfort.

The two of them spent the next hour looking like "conductors" as their hands fashioned and shaped new walls, a fireplace or two - and were connected into the floo network, bookshelves and comfortable furniture transfigured and arranged, and even the castle portraits moved a bit. John did most of the "heavy lifting" in all of this, as he could flow matter and warp space to make everything fit perfectly. He even got to exercise his death skills, dealing with some of the pricklier folk of the portraits, who didn't take to change very well most of the time.

When they finished, the entire apartment was just glorious. Each of their bedrooms were suited perfectly to their tastes. Everyone had outside windows... important for ready flight access. The central space had both an "entertainment area", like a parlor, and a quieter section like a relaxing nook, with a couple chairs and side tables. They could see themselves sitting there near the fireplace reading, or playing chess or a boardgame. The two of them thought they had organized, furnished, and decorated Harry's room perfectly... Gryffindor colors, comfortable four poster bed, soft rugs on the floor, his own fireplace, a very well designed desk and study chair, lots of bookshelf space, wardrobe, cabinet for toys and the inevitable kid's "stuff", and even his own "conversation pit" of chairs and a table for entertaining his friends, should he choose to have them come. The room was spacious without seeming institutional, and cozy without seeming cluttered.

John looked it over and said, "Papa, I think it's perfect, but we should get a second opinion from someone who knows him better. Let's call Auntie to come have a look, eh?"

"Great idea. I agree," as he decided to also ask Wilfried what he thought. Just as he was about to "floo call" Minerva - since he reserved "mental intrusion" for emergency or urgent situations, Harry spoke to him mentally. Casting a Tempus charm, Pavel realized it was 2:30, so Harry had finished with Minerva, and probably spent some time alone fretting.

 _"Professor? Can you hear me?" Harry's voice asked a bit tentatively._

 _"Yes, Harry. I will hear you any time you will specifically to speak to me, and articulate clear words," he responded. "I know it seems a bit strange, but you'll get used to it. Now, what can I do for you?"_

 _"Well, sir, I've seen Professor McGonagall, and I'm not sure what to do right now. I'm not sure what I'm allowed to do right now. I know I'm in trouble, but..."_

 _"I see, Harry. Well, you've done a VERY good thing to check with me, in that you aren't sure what trouble you're in or what would be permissible. I do not yet have Professor McGonagall's note, so... until you and I deal with that, let us just go on with Saturday. For the moment then, did the Professor restrict you in any way?"_

 _"No, sir. I just have three days detention with Mr. Filch coming this week."_

 _"All right, then since you are feeling well enough, go on about your free time for now. You may even ride your broom if you wish... However..."_

 _"You don't even need to say it, Professor. I'll stay so far from the boundaries..."_

 _"Very well. No stunt flying without your mouthpiece, and I shall call you when it's time to come see me. All right?"_

 _"Yes, sir. Thank you."_

 _"You're welcome. Have fun and stay out of trouble, please."_

 _"Yessir," and he bounced outside to enjoy what was left of a sunny afternoon on his broom._

He walked to his fireplace, addressed his floo to Minerva's office, and said, "Professor McGonagall? Are you free?"

She pushed away the parchments she was grading, walked to her fireplace and said, "I'm certainly willing to be. Do you need something?"

"Only a second opinion, if you'd be kind enough to step through to my quarters," and she came through in a twinkling, batting floo powder residue from her robes. "John and I have been doing some 'home improvement', and wanted to know what you thought. We've made Harry a room here, and combined our two apartments. But you know his tastes better than we do without prying in his head, so if there are posters, or banners, or the like that would make this more his..."

Pavel stepped aside as he opened Harry's door, and Minerva was dumbstruck. The room was gorgeous... she wished hers was as nice. And all she could offer was that his favorite Quidditch team was the Chudley Cannons, and she summoned the posters right away. Banners might be nice too, right over here... And she walked about happily making one minute adjustment after the other for about 15 minutes or so.

"Oh, Pavel... it will mean so much to him! Well done!" and she nearly misted up.

"I don't deserve the praise, John did all the work. I just helped a bit here and there, but he's the space and matter wizard. He seems to have gotten on well with Hogwarts, nonetheless. The Castle seems pleased with the work."

"Oh, and Auntie!" John chimed in excitedly, "We didn't show you the coolest part yet. Look here!" and John opened a door leading off of the parlor, that should have led into his own apartment side's sitting area, and instead they were looking at the staircase landing next to the Fat Lady's Portrait. "Since student's aren't permitted to walk around the hallways of the Staff Residence wing, students will have their own entrance to these quarters so that Harry and those he chooses to have visit won't run afoul of the privacy rules. I put it so near the Gryffindor entrance so that if he's here past curfew some time, he's less likely to get in trouble or be tempted to roam the halls on his way back to his dorm."

Minerva admired the invention, then laughed saying, "Paul, I foresee a potential 'challenge' here."

"What's that, kind lady?"

"Your son is too clever by half. I have a terrible feeling that he and Harry will find themselves aligning in mischief or trouble more successfully together, than Harry would on his own."

John looked a picture of startled innocence, and placed his flattened palm over his heart, saying, _"Moi?_ Auntie, you cut me to the quick!"

Pavel just chuckled, saying, "No fear, Madame. John knows well, if he and Harry get in trouble together, they will both face the same consequences together as well. I'll not play favorites or spoil either one of them. And let me go ahead and say this right now in front of you both. Minerva, if YOU catch them out of order together, I encourage you to do the same. Feel free."

"Papa! Throw me under the bus why don't you?!" John laughed.

"Oh, no, my son. If you climb under that bus on your own, that's entirely on you, not me! Now, I'm going to ask Wilfried to bring some tea, and we'll see what he thinks of the new digs. Will you join me?"

"Oh, Master!" Wilfried marvelled, as he responded to Pavel's summons. The space had been given the Old World feel of his home in the Ukraine, and was reminiscent enough of the little house elf's past to move him to awed silence.

"So, you approve then," Pavel smiled, patting the servant's shoulder. "Would you be kind enough to bring us a pot of tea and some small nibbles besides. I leave it to your judgment. We shall christen the new 'parlor' here," and the elf popped away in a flash.

They made their way to seats, and when Minerva sat, they did as well.

"Oh, Paul," she seemed to remind herself, reaching into a pocket of her robe. "Here is your 'note home'. Harry wanted to bring it himself, I think just to shorten the suspense and waiting time, but I told him that was not the 'done thing'."

"Ah..." Pavel said, smiling as he held this in his hand. "Perhaps I should frame this, or bronze it, or something. It has been a very VERY long time since I've received one of these!"

John coughed, "And YOU weren't usually the first one to receive it, if I could have anything to do with it."

"That's true! Mother always dealt with these first, and then... 'eased me into it'... when I got home. I suspect that you, John, will be providing that service for our young ward. I see that you and he have bonded, and he seems to trust you already. That is wonderful. You can teach him so much, and you have 'built in credibility' since you too are my 'son'. You've already advocated for him to me twice, and softened my approach. Should I hand you this note to review first, before I read it?" he laughed.

"No, Papa. I think with Auntie sitting right here as the author, that would be a wasted gesture."

Pavel opened the note to read: _"Dear Professor Konstantyn, this morning your ward, Harry Potter, committed very serious violations of Hogwart's Rules designed to ensure the safety of all. He willfully and deliberately breached the security of the school's boundary protective wards, and entered into the Forbidden Forest which is strictly off limits to unsupervised students. He has been severely reprimanded, and will this week perform 3 days of punitive chores and detention. You are being notified as this is not the behavior we expect of Hogwarts students, and you may wish to express your own displeasure at his demeanor by whatever means seems most appropriate to you. Thanking you for your time and attention in this matter, I am, Very Sincerely Yours, Minerva McGonagall, Professor; Head Gryffindor House; Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."_

Pavel smiled, and simply said, "Thank you, Madame. I shall address the situation this evening," whereupon he handed the note over to John. "It's a good thing I never received one exactly like this, on you... Or at least, I don't _THINK_ I did. Your mother would probably have dealt with you, and 'accidentally lost' the note."

John chuckled, "No, Papa. That never happened. She'd have judged it 'dishonest', and we all just didn't do that. But there were a couple where I know she took great pains to assure that you were calm before we had our 'chat'. But goodness, Auntie. I never got one quite this pointed. And I'm really glad of that. This would have taken me a lot of tap dancing to get around."

"John, I'm a teacher, and I too have been a Deputy Head. No amount of tap dancing in the world would have 'gotten you around' that note. Thank you, Minerva. That is absolutely perfect. I am very grateful."

"What are you going to do, Paul? If I'm not prying..."

Paul smiled, "No unaskable questions, Minerva. No, I am going to show our new family member that there are consequences in a magical home for misbehavior that gets reported from school. And that those consequences may be aversive, as they are intended to be, but they have nothing to do with his nature, his acceptability, his security, or his safety. He is accountable for his behavior. Accountable to me, to this family, to you... just as we all hold ourselves accountable to one another.

"Professor McGonagall, is it acceptable for Harry to stay tonight in his new room? Perhaps we may even have dinner here together, Harry, John and I. Could you make our apologies at the High Table?"

"That will be fine. I'll see to it. It will be your first night to bide as a family. _Noo do'nae ye go an skelp the wee bairn his first nicht a'home!"_ Minerva wagged that finger.

"You write me a note home like _THIS_ ," taking the parchment back from John, "and then say _THAT_ to me!? _Ye canna maek up yer muind, woman! Yir aff yir heid!"_ Pavel could not resist adding just a moment of a rare glamour to his voice. The look of utter shock on her face? Priceless.

Pavel laughed for a moment, then sobered, "I promise you, Minerva, I'll not lay a finger on the _'wee bairn_ '. He'll be fine. This is all in aid of his learning what a loving family is about, and that he now has one of his own. But for the awkwardness of his being punished right now, I'd ask you to dinner. Perhaps we can do that next week, if he can stay out of trouble long enough, eh?

"By the way, John? Would you be kind enough to go outside and let him know I've 'received his note'? He'll probably want to talk to you for a bit about... expectations. And then if you would, bring him in, and come yourself, and we'll have 'the chat' at 4:30 or so? I'd like to start being consistent with him, and probably in the same rhythms you and I used when you were a lad."

"Sure, Papa. Just... how much do you want me to tell him, or what do you want to reserve for yourself?"

Pavel thought about it a moment, "I don't think there's much you can't teach him. Be open and honest, you know what you don't know, and you can't predict exactly what I'll decide on a given issue, so... just answer what you can, and tell him the rest he'll need to ask me directly. Use your own judgment, I trust you. More importantly, so does Harry."

"All right... Papa..." slight bow, "Auntie..." kiss on the cheek, and John walked over to the nearest window and jumped out, transmuting into his raven form.

* * *

Harry was easy to spot from the air, so John flew close and landed below him, then used "mind talking" to address him. "Harry?" and the boy answered. "I'm on the ground near you. Please come land, let's talk a bit." And Harry obeyed. John tousled his hair as they began walking towards the Castle, "It's time to go in now. Papa got your note from Professor McGonagall." Harry stopped and his face turned pale.

"Is he... is he mad?" Harry asked, fearfully.

"No, not really. You have nothing to worry about. In fact, we're all going to have dinner together at 'our place'. Would you like that?"

"'Our place?' I don't know what you mean."

"Well, I don't want to ruin the surprise or anything, but you know Papa and I live in the Residential Tower, the Staff quarters, right?"

"Sure."

"And students aren't allowed through the door of that wing, so staff can have some privacy and such, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, Papa and I rearranged our quarters, building them together and giving you a separate entrance so that you can come 'home' when you want to. There's more, but I don't want to wreck it, so you'll just have to wait and see. We wouldn't be much of a family if we couldn't hang out together when we want to, and I can't see Papa and me kicking back in the Gryffindor Common Room, can you?"

Harry laughed, "No, not hardly.."

"So there we go. At 4:30, we're going to have a 'little chat'... and Papa's going to deal with that note and the events of this morning."

"Uh, huh..." Harry just let this sink in. "John, what's going to happen? What's he going to do to me?"

"I honestly don't know, Harry. I know most of what will 'happen' will be just talking among us. As to what he's going to do, well, I think that's going to depend a lot on how the talking goes."

"OK, I guess I'll just go ahead and ask... Is he likely to hit me, John? Ron and I were thinking, I might get walloped now. If he treats me like a 'son'. Didn't he hit you sometimes when you were a kid?"

"Harry, he is not going to wallop you, especially if by that you mean getting beaten with a belt. And if he follows the same rules with you that he did with me, he will never ever hit you, even to spank you, unless or until you ask him to. You've asked if he sometimes hit me when I was a kid. Yes, yes he did. But ONLY when I asked for the spanking, instead of an alternative penalty. This universe, this life, is nothing like what you've known before. Papa's most typical sanctions are to do chores, tiresome or messy chores without the use of magic. When he's REALLY out to make a point, he would ground me... and it was severe. Grounded to my room, speak when spoken to when not in my room. I could get grounded for weeks, even going to school. But that was reserved for when I got in really serious trouble.

Again, John could see Harry just mulling this over... "So, how or when did you ever get hit?"

"From about the age of 5 or 6 on, if I didn't want to do the chore or chores, or if I didn't want to be grounded or grounded as long as the sentence, I could go to him and hand him a small paddle that was mine for this alone. We would talk, and if he felt correction was still called for, he'd swat me a few times on the bum with that paddle. It was always over my clothes, and it always hurt like the dickens, and I always cried. But, when it was over we'd hug it out and go play chess. I'd lie on my stomach on the living room floor, and he'd sit on the floor cross-legged, and by an hour after the spanking dinner would be ready, and I could bounce on a chair and not feel a thing. Plus, my mum always made my favorite dessert, which almost made the paddling worthwhile itself," John laughed.

"Do you think he'd do that to me?" Harry swallowed hard.

"No, Harry. No way. This was all messed up for you when you were that age. You've never known 'correction' the way I'm describing. For you, it was violent beating, and injury, given with rage and uncontrolled temper, for things that weren't even your fault or decision. No, Harry. I'm pretty sure Papa's going to be the same with you as he was with me, and he'll never cause you pain unless or until you feel real trust and confidence in his correction. Your life has taught you fear. Papa's not going to feed into that. You will learn to respect him and heed his authority. You'll learn obedience, because he will 'up the ante' on rebelliousness until the price isn't worth it to you. But he doesn't have to use pain to do that. And he won't. He needs your respect and obedience, not fear. And you can trust to that.

"I tell you what, Harry, I'll make you a deal. My paddle was one of the first things I ever learned in transfiguration. I made it myself, and I adjusted it from time to time as I got older. It was only about 10 inches long, 4 inches wide, and 3/8 inch thick. Too light to do anything but sting. That is the only thing I was ever chastened with as a child. Now, when you're ready, if you ever are... you come and tell me, and I'll show you and help you make your own paddle. Papa would only use that, and nothing else ever, to chasten you... and that only when you put it in his hand and ask that he use it, because you prefer that to being grounded or chores or whatever. You never _ever_ need to worry about him _'beating'_ you. It just won't happen. But until you can believe that, trust that, and have confidence enough for him to use that kind of correction, just don't fabricate your personal paddle. No problem. Fair enough? You got this? He won't beat you, not tonight, not ever... ok?"

"OK. Got it..." Harry smiled.

"Fine, now let's go face the music, shall we?"

"OK, I'm ready. By the way, did you and... the Professor... ever sort out what he was mad at you for?"

"Nope, Little Brother, which is why I think this 'little chat' may not just be for you alone. I think we're both on the carpet this time."

And for no reason at all, as the two of them made their way towards the Fat Lady's Portrait, Harry just threw his arms around John's waist and hugged him like there was no tomorrow. John dropped to one knee to return the hug, and saw Harry with tears in his eyes.

"What's the matter, _frate mai mic?_ Are you still afraid?" as Harry buried his face in John's shoulder and sobbed softly.

"No. It's just I've never had a brother before, a big brother. I didn't know how good it could feel. I'm so glad you are here, and so glad you're my brother!" he cried softly, sniffling into John's shirt.

John just held him there for a moment, then since they were so close to Harry's portal, he just picked him up in his arms, and carried him to the secret door. Harry looked up as John pointed out the faint pattern on the wall where it opened to the stairs' landing. He waited for Harry's sniffling to subside and said, "OK, Harry, this is your very own magic door to 'our house'. It needs a password. What do you want to give it?"

Harry was stunned. The Hogwarts Houses had passworded portals. The Headmaster's Office had a passworded portal. But him? Harry? He now had one of his own? It stopped him cold in mid sniffle. "Quidditch Seeker", he said softly. He'd thought of "quidditch" alone at first, but realized how easy it would be for someone to be saying that word passing along the stairs. But those two words together... you never used them together, that should be safe.

"Very well, Harry," and John held him up with one arm as Harry clung to him with both arms thrown around his neck, then pressed his other palm into the center of the door saying quietly, "Quidditch Seeker". The portal turned black and then disappeared as they stepped straight into John and Pavel's living room.

Pavel had been sitting comfortably with a book when they walked in from "Harry's Door". He turned to them, saw John carrying Harry, saw the tears and redness on Harry's face, and said, "Harry, what's wrong? John? What did you do? I swear, if you've hurt Harry... I'll turn you over to your Aunt for correction!"

 _At which John and Harry looked straight into one another's faces. John just said, "See what I mean?" And they both broke down in waves of laughter._


	27. Time to Face the Music

**Time to Face the Music**

John and Harry wound up laughing so hard and so long, John had to drop to his knees to keep from letting the boy fall. Harry then tackled John, taking him to the floor on the carpet, whereupon John started tickling Harry, who started to scream.

Pavel hadn't the foggiest notion what was going on, but had immediately cast his _"mind net"_ over them to see if there was anything wrong as they'd entered, thinking Harry was hurt somehow. He'd found no evidence of anything amiss, just an intense bond and warmth between the two of them, so he'd withdrawn his probes and figured he'd get the story... eventually.

Whatever was happening was confusing, but wonderful, and Paul wasn't going to interrupt it for the world. He just shook his head with a befuddled smile, and decided to walk over to the teapot, pour some tea, and wait it out.

In just about one full minute - which is an incredibly long time when you're being tickled and out of breath - the two of them calmed down, stopped their wrestling, and just lay there panting on the floor. It was an altogether ridiculous scene, but one that warmed Paul's heart no end. Lying there, trying to catch their breath and stop giggling - which would still come in momentary "chuckle waves" as they looked at one another - John whispered to Harry, "Well, Little Brother, we may as well go take our medicine, eh?"

Harry, without missing a beat, giggled back saying, "Yeah, I guess so. I'm ready now."

"Here we go then," John leapt to his feet and reached down to grab Harry's outstretched hand. He hauled him up as Harry got his feet under him and jumped, making Harry look and feel like a superhero launching to fly. John assumed a position of attention, and saw that Harry copied him, then said, "Good evening, Papa. Two sons, reporting as ordered, Sir!" Harry gave a sharp nod of his head, and tried to school his features to a proper expression of "attention".

"I see," Pavel said, deciding to enter this impromptu role play. He put down his teacup, clasped his hands behind his back, and slowly paced over to stand in front of his two "boys" as an officer would inspect his troops. Casually casting "Tempus" on the wall opposite them, they saw that it was 4:40, prompting the comment, "ten minutes late I see..."

"We were... unavoidably detained... sir," John offered, not breaking his brace.

"I see..." Pavel repeated, with a low, ominous tone. "Is that so, Harry?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Unavoidably, sir. Detained, sir," Harry replied, similarly not shifting position in the slightest. Harry could both see and feel John struggling with what was clearly a giggle up his nose. He had to quit watching him out of the corner of his eye, or Harry would start laughing again... and he had a feeling that would be a really bad idea at the present moment.

Pavel could clearly feel the tension of humor mounting, and chose to show mercy as he briskly walked back to his teacup, turning away from them, commanding, "As you were. Come sit down, gentlemen."

John relaxed, Harry followed suit, and John just tousled his hair again.

 _"Ayyyy..."_ Harry whined, batting John's hand away with a giggle.

"So Papa," John began, "shall we pour some tea and... I see cocoa here for Harry? Or do we go stand in corners? What's the agenda for this program?"

"Well, boys, I think you've already pretty well torn up my 'agenda'. You're here for a disciplinary hearing, and you enter collapsing with the giggles. How am I supposed to salvage that with any dignity at all?"

"Well, sir," Harry dared to speak boldly, "you could just call it all 'good', and figure the discipline stuff has already been taken care of well enough... Maybe... sir..." _as a cold moment of 'what in the world am I saying?' stole across his mind. He thought he'd be in terrific trouble, as soon as the words had escaped him._

 _Pavel, on the other hand, would have danced a jig with joy, but for the context and needing to stay in character for his role here. "So little fear! What a wonderful job John has done... so little fear!"_

"Well, Harry, that would certainly be one possibility. Yes. Yes, indeed..." he paused, as though considering. "Go ahead and pour yourselves some refreshment, then come sit down here so we can talk."

 _"Well," thought Harry, "that seemed like a good sign. He wouldn't have me sitting drinking hot chocolate if he was going to kill me."_

"But considering the events of the day, and this note I have from Professor McGonagall, I think perhaps a bit more _gravitas_ to this 'little chat' is called for, don't you?" he said, as they all sat around a lovely circular coffee table, inlaid with the signs of the zodiac from many different culture, all in concentric rings. Gently, he passed the parchment across to Harry saying, "Please read that."

Harry did so, and all the blood drained from his face. His hand began to shake just a little, as he finished the note and put it back on the table.

"I'm... I'm sorry, sir." Harry mumbled.

"Thank you, Harry. I know you are. But I'm not entirely sure what you are sorry for? Is it for what you did? The decisions you made? Or for getting caught? Or for the possible things that could have happened? Or for the punishment you've already been assigned? Or the punishment you fear is yet to come? What are you sorry for?"

"Just... just everything, Professor. I'm just really sorry. I don't know why I get in trouble so much. I don't mean to!" and the boy's eyes were filling with tears again.

"Harry, try to calm yourself. I'm sure John has talked with you. What did he tell you would, or, perhaps more importantly would _NOT_ happen here this evening?"

Harry knew what he meant. "John told me I didn't have to be afraid. That you weren't going to beat me, or hurt me. That we'd mostly talk, but he didn't know what my punishment would be. It would depend on the talk."

"Good, Harry. I'm glad you remember all of that. Because I have no problem with tears of sorrow and remorse for legitimate wrong doing. But I don't want you shedding tears of fear, or overwhelming shame because you label yourself a 'bad child' or some other epithet. That won't do. You are a fine young man, with a good heart, sure of himself and his belief that he knows the right thing to do, and that rules are inconveniences. That doesn't make you 'evil', Harry. That makes you headstrong and immature.

"So, I want you to take some deep breaths and sort out your feelings and thoughts. I need you to tell me, clearly and honestly, exactly what you did today that has gotten you into trouble. Identify what 'right' things there were about it, and what 'wrong' things there were about it."

"Right things, sir? I don't understand... how were there any 'right' things about today?"

"Your motive, for one, Harry. You did not do this to harm someone, or to get something you wanted. You were lured beyond the bounds by a trap that appealed to your compassion. You wanted to 'rescue' a helpless 'innocent'. That is what I mean by a 'right thing'.

"Together, the three of us are going to analyze all the wrong elements, the rebellions, disobedience, and willfulness... determining to what degree you were out of order. And then we're going to modify that, reduce the culpability, by all the 'right' factors, the obedient factors, the compliant factors. Only after we look at all that, and determine what you've really learned from this event, and how likely you are to do the same thing if faced with the same situation... Only then can I know what 'correction' should be applied. Understand? I'm not here to 'punish' you, in the sense that for a given crime, you pay a given set price. You can't 'buy' righteousness. I'm here to 'teach' you. To understand a situation and how you respond to it well enough, that I can motivate you in like circumstances to make better decisions. That's a whole different thing."

He waited a long moment, watching Harry's eyes as he considered all this. This was really REALLY different than he'd ever thought about discipline before. He'd always seen it as a kind of transaction, a 'deal'. Do this, you pay that. Is it worth it, or not? It's like buying the offense, if you were willing to pay the price. But this... this was completely different. This was applying pressure and analysis to affect the way you make decisions, INSIDE that process in your head. Really different.

"Papa?" John spoke into the silence, "I have a suggestion."

"What's that?" Pavel responded in an interested tone.

"I've mentioned to Harry that I am, as you've said, 'on report' right now. That I made a decision this morning that you believe to be out of order, and that I am obligated and willing to engage in this 'little chat', just as Harry is doing, to consider whether my risky behavior was justified or not. I've told Harry that I'm not 'afraid' of the process, but that if I prevail, you accept my professional judgment as valid, and if I cannot justify my decisions, then there will be a consequence to that as well... in service of my making better judgments and decisions in like circumstances.

"I suggest we model this 'chat' for Harry, and I will submit to your judgment alone, rather than waiting for the team to gather. I am at peace with that."

Pavel smiled, looked down, and leaned back a moment, considering... "Ivan... John... you realize, I am your 'accuser' and Inquisitor on this. It is hard for me to be your Magistrate as well. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Papa, I've spent years at peace with you being both my accuser and my magistrate. I've never known you to cheat or be unfair. If you cannot come to a decision without bias or emotional distortion, you table the decision until you can. I do not believe this to be as serious an occasion, though I know... the technique I used offends you in many dimensions at once. I do not know if my defense of justification will prevail, but even if it does not, and I am sanctioned, I trust that it will be out of love and your fair consideration.

"I want Harry to see how this process works, that he can take this one step at a time, trust you, and apply his ample courage to the simple honesty you require. Besides, Papa, you are the only one of the team who could fairly judge what was going on. My men could not see what you and I were seeing. They would have no idea of the magnitude of risk involved. Even to have them vote, would be to stack the deck in my favor."

"Ivan..." Pavel said, emotion forcing him to think in his son's given name, "I only want to bring up one more thing, before we commit to beginning this. You know, do you not, that if this goes badly it will be referred to Ivailo, and what that would mean. He approves, and understands, even less that I do. It could mean nine, supernaturally applied."

John's pulse quickened as he answered, "No, Papa. You forget, had I failed you were in the feedback loop. That would make it nineteen... and THAT only if Ivailo did not consider the ramifications of Harry being so close by, and Hogwarts, had you fallen in the feedback. I am resolved, nonetheless. Let's go on. It has to be done sometime, anyway."

Harry did not understand much of what was happening, but he did intuit that John really was in a very parallel "position" as he. John was asking the Professor to conduct an interview using him as the miscreant, to determine if he had earned punishment or not. He gathered that the punishment they were discussing was a much greater penalty than anything he was facing. He had a sudden flash that John was risking himself, sacrificing himself somehow, for Harry. He couldn't have that.

"No, John!" he cried out. "I don't know what's going on here, but I don't want you to do this for me! You're talking about something bad. Something that would hurt you. I can see it in both of your faces, and hear it in both of your voices. No!" he turned urgently to the Professor, "let's start again, sir. I will tell you whatever you want to know. Don't do this with John, I'm the one who broke the rules, he only saved me. Tell me how to do this, and I'll figure it out. John doesn't have to demonstrate."

Both Pavel and John got up and walked over to either side of Harry, and gave him a big hug.

Paul said, "Thank you, Harry. That is very brave, and I'm very proud of you. But I am also very proud of my other son, here. What he proposes is right, and I agree. We would have done this sometime, but probably with his two colleagues in attendance as well. John may be proposing the 'timing' in order to help you learn and understand, but he is not 'running additional risk' to himself on your behalf. Release that fear. You are not responsible for what decision he made, or for what consequence it may bring."

"All right, we will do this, and yes... Harry you will see the process and understand better how this works. Now, before we begin, if you are truly to understand this analysis, this 'after-action evaluation' then you will need to see as John and I saw. So I am going to open my memories to you, to your mind, as John and I recount the event. Hold your questions until afterwards, and we will try to answer them. But know that even then, there's much you just won't understand because you haven't yet 'seen' magic this way. All right? Don't be afraid, not even afraid for John, all right?"

Harry nodded.

"Now Harry, you will see us with the men who assaulted you in the Forest. You were already on your way to the Infirmary with Professor McGonagall when these events transpired.

 **The scene played out in Harry's mind's eye:** John was there, standing with his wand in his hand over the gangster who had grabbed Harry. All three of the thugs were stupefied unconscious, and naked on the forest leaf litter. Their clothing was all in one pile, and everything from their pockets was in another. He could see scars, tattoos, branding marks, runes, and designs on their bodies. The two men that helped rescue him with John were aiming their wands at these marks, and light was streaming from the tips erasing them.

Harry heard the Professor say, "we have less than a minute..."

Then Harry's vision changed completely. It was like he was looking through an X-Ray or something. He could see all three men, with big "envelopes" of... something... something blurry and colorful all around them. He could see that that marks on their bodies had been "binding" them, as if with rope, wrapped around them this way and that, and that as those marks were being removed, so were the ropes.

But from their... well... bellybuttons, he guessed... there was a big cord, like a fire hose or something... reaching out into the air beyond where he could see. He could see that Pavel was directly seeing and interacting with those hoses, using his wand to stretch, weaken, twist, pull on... those hoses. Clearly, he was trying to break them.

Harry could see that John was watching all of this, and could clearly see everything happening... the hoses, the cords, the runes, his Father working on breaking them. He saw John add his force through his own wand, into his father's wand, trying to enhance his strength. While Pavel seemed to be making some progress weakening the cords, none had yet broken.

Then Harry started to hear something, a humming, a vibration... and looking up the hoses, he could see them starting to look brighter from the distance. He knew, without knowing how he knew, that the "enemy" was out there somewhere, pushing something towards them through those hoses. Pavel saw it, and his wand forced light into them at his end, to push back at whatever was coming.

Pavel had clearly made progress, but it also seemed clear that whatever was coming would get to him before he succeeded in breaking the cords.

For Harry's sake, and for clarity of the "hearing" they were now convened in... Pavel "froze" the action and explained. "Harry, you may not understand everything going on here, but you get the gist. Up to now, John as been fine. He augmented my power, it was some help, but I was losing. I did not have enough strength to overcome the tenacity of these sympathetic bindings, especially not three at one time. But now you will see what John did of which I disapprove...

 **The scene picked up again:**

John stretched out his hand, formed long talons with claws, and slashed each of the thugs, just enough to make them bleed. Now... John, just as Pavel, had also been surrounded by an "envelope". Both of theirs were golden colored, while their helpers were white... but the Professor's was much larger and brighter than John's. The thugs' glowy edges were murky... some light... but more like a grayish mist or goo. Anyway, John's hands became hands again, and he put both of them on the wound of the first man, covering his palms with his blood.

Three things happened... the blood on his hands instantly disappeared, being absorbed into John's skin. His "envelope" - he wondered if this is what Madame Trelawny meant by "aura"? It sure looked like what she talked about. Anyway, John's aura changed, taking on a muddy, murky appearance in swirls through the golden medium. Then, Harry could see the cord, the "sympathetic connection" to that thug weaken, split into a second smaller hose, and shift to John. This process was repeated two more times with the two remaining thugs, absorbing their blood, turning his own aura quite dark and dim indeed, and ultimately having three hoses attached at various points on his torso.

John's face took on a feral, wild, expression... shifting from man to beast and back again. You could see him struggle, as if he were in pain, as slowly he turned towards the direction of the cords... six of them now, each half the diameter and seeming strength of the original three... and solidify his face into his human aspect. His golden glow seemed to grow vastly stronger, forcing the dark mists to coalesce into something like "bubbles" or "puddles" within the pool of his own force. He could see the Professor look at John, with an expression first of sheer horror, then anger on his face.

 **The scene stopped, freezing in place again:**

Pavel explained to Harry, "Here, right here, is the crux of this hearing. John has certain abilities that I do not share. He can perform some rituals of 'blood magic' as he did here. He took some of the 'life force', the 'identity' of those bad guys into himself. Doing that, he changed them enough to weaken their master's hold on them. Further, he 'became them' enough to force the sympathetic connections between their master and them to shift, following his ritual, to him. That made them 'split', which weakened them, along with making enough alteration to their identity that the holds were weakened as well.

"Now, John... I have two accusations at this point. In performing what you did, you corrupted and polluted yourself. All that 'dark murk' you saw enter him there Harry, was what we could simply call... 'evil'. John voluntarily chose to absorb enough evil into himself in those moments, that he had to exercise an extraordinary degree of will and self control to keep himself from turning and ripping me, or anyone else, to shreds. As his face contorted in the way you saw, he was wavering back and forth between the John we know and love, and a monster more horrendous and powerful than any werewolf you've ever imagined. He could not know, for certain, that he would win that battle.

"As it happened, he did win it, contained and encapsulated the evil, and began forcing 'light' back up through the connections, aiding me. HOWEVER!" Pavel glared at John, "In doing this, he expended the last reserves of strength he could have used voluntarily to withdraw from the connection. We call this 'going past your drop dead point'. It's the extension of one's risk beyond the point you can safely withdraw. This is never, EVER, to be done unless there is ABSOLUTE ASSURANCE that there is backup present able to pull you back, if you cannot do so.

"John, you were not even CLOSE to having that backup! I was already fully extended just in what I was doing. Your two colleagues, skilled as they are as operatives, do not have the specialties to see or engage in that kind of battle. I accuse you, on the basis of keeping inadequate reserves... and I believe you did so because of your emotional attachment to me, and your concern that I be injured or worse, handling the connections.

 **"Let us let the scene play out, and then John may respond."**

Light had begun to force its way up the hoses, as the hoses had become weaker, smaller and more flaccid. John, periodically let some of the energy coming at him hit him and disappear. He was just absorbing, swallowing, it. Then he drew his wand again, and sent power to Pavel, and together they were able to sever the hoses, from weakest to strongest, as they gained power with each disconnection.

And it was done. Pavel then waved the clothing back on their prisoners, and encased them in some sort of iridescent bubbles, **and the scene ended.**

Everyone just sat there for a few moments. Harry just continued to stare out without moving, as the horror of what he had just seen threatened to overcome him. He had no idea! He never knew! They could have been killed! Because of him! Why hadn't he stayed inside the wards? What was wrong with him?! It was just all hitting him at once.

Pavel could feel what was happening, and the waves of guilt and horror begin to flow from Harry. That needed to stop, but tender words wouldn't help. First, he'd have to get Harry's attention.

"Mr. Potter! Stop that NOW!" he urged, in a harsh stern tone. "We have allowed you to see this event so that you can participate in a meaningful way in this hearing. You did not 'cause' that event, or increase its danger. John, and I - to be frank, along with those two young men are, or have been Aurors. Hunting people like them, and the master they answer to, is what we do or have done day after day. You, Mr. Potter, are an 'innocent' and they prey on people like you. If that had not happened there and then, we'd have faced them some other time, some other place. So, please 'get over yourself', as they say. This hearing, and that event, in a real sense is 'not about you'. It's about the creature that sent them... Stoian Petrov... and the tactics we use to defeat him. Is that clear?"

"Uh, uh huh..."

"No, Harry. That is not the right response. Try again, now, _is... that... clear?"_

Harry snapped out of his reverie and back to the present moment, "Yes, sir. That's clear!"

"Thank you, Harry. Now... Mr. Constantine, please justify your actions."

John stood, not quite at attention, and began, "Sir, I observed the strength and tenacity of the sympathetic connections you were attempting to sever, and the degree to which they were resisting you. I then attempted to augment your power by direct cooperative harmonics. I calculated that the improvement was insufficient for success, and that in less than 30 seconds Petrov would reach through far enough either to reach you, or, if you released the connections as I presume you would, to destroy his minions. In order to preserve _those minions_ , and the information they potentially carried, I chose to adulterate their identities and attenuate their sympathetic connections.

"I used an uncommon blood rite to muddle the identities of the minions with my own. In so doing, knowing that they were stupefied and unable to resist or combat my actions, I absorbed a very small part of their essences into myself, believing that my own ego strength and skills were sufficient to hold their natures at bay to give us the time we needed to sever their connections. Further, I believed that in muddling identities as I did, I could fracture the connections and weaken them, as you saw happened.

"I consider these actions well considered, reasonable, and appropriate of risk, considering our chances of success versus the costs of losing these sources of current intelligence. It is nearly impossible to capture Petrov's lackeys alive, and I hope the information harvested will break this case open, helping bring it to a successful conclusion.

"I thus deny your allegation that I took unreasonable risk based on sentiment, and concern for your safety. I sought to preserve an invaluable source of intelligence, nothing more.

"As to your second allegation, that I extended myself beyond my safety recall point: I confess that as I began to pump energy into the connections to contest with Petrov, I did expend energy reserves that would otherwise be needed to disengage. However, I deny doing so without adequate backup. I could see the weakening of the connections, the improved and renewed progress being made in their severance, and I calculated that you, with my augmentation, would succeed in severing all six connections before Petrov's attacks could reach me. I believe we beat the deadline by at least 10 seconds. That's how I measured the rates of progress in all directions.

"I rest my case, sir, and I submit to your judgment. You know, for a fact, that my calculations were accurate, since you saw the results for yourself. I don't see that there's anything more to be said. May I sit down, sir?"

"Sit!" Pavel barked. John sat.

Harry listened to everything, and found it fascinating. John made it all sound so... clinical... so mechanical. But the live event was bloody terrifying! How could you manage such thinking, such casting, the expenditure of so much power with such precision, under such pressure of both danger and time? How could they do that? Harry looked over at the Professor, and saw that he looked very angry, but he was also clearly thinking. It was a strange look.

Pavel turned to Harry, and said, "Well, Mr. Potter. What do you think of all this? You have heard my accusations, and you have heard John's defense. What do you think? How would you decide, or what further questions would you ask? What would seem relevant to you?"

Harry had been giving it quite a bit of thought, and trying to follow the arguments. "Well, sir. Of course I only understand a very little bit of what I saw, and it was bloody scary..." he stopped, "sorry sir. But if I'm getting this right, you are saying that what Master Constantine did was very very dangerous. Too dangerous to risk doing it. And what Master Constantine is saying is, he knew he could do it. It needed to be done. So he did it.

"Am I getting that right, sir?"

As serious as all of this was, Pavel had to smile as he nodded his head, "Well done, Mr. Potter, that's pretty accurate and succinctly put. Yes, I think you're getting this right. So what do you think?"

"Well, no disrespect, sir... But it reminds me a lot of when I play Quidditch. So many times, I'll see the snitch and know what it will take to catch it. And the move to get it is risky, dangerous, maybe even looks impossible. But when I get into the right position at the right distance, I just 'know' I can pull the maneuver off successfully. Professor McGonagall and Madame Hooch get on me all the time about it. And I can't explain it really, but I can just feel it... when it's right... and I know I will succeed.

"That's what I was thinking when Master John spoke, sir. He looked at the situation.. his snitch... and he just knew he could do the right thing, and there was no time to think about it, so he did it... and it worked.

"So, well, sir... I think I'd vote to clear Master John. He knew he could, he knew he needed to, and he did. Game over."

"Dammit!" Pavel roared, slapping the table with his hand. He stood suddenly, said, "Excuse me for a few moments," and walked into his bedroom, lost from sight of his sons. The boys heard his window sash shifting through the open door... then, nothing.

Waiting a good 10 seconds more, John burst out laughing and came over to give Harry a huge hug. "Thank you so much, Harry!" he said, as he walked over to pour some more tea and cocoa for them.

"What's wrong, John? Did I say something wrong? Do something wrong? Am I in trouble? I've never heard him cuss before. Is he mad at me?" Harry was both hugely confused, startled, and on the verge of upset.

"No, Harry. To almost all of that! You did and said nothing wrong, and he is not angry at you. You did something incredibly RIGHT, and he's very frustrated. I suspect he's also feeling a sense of foreboding that the two of us are under his same roof!"

"Where did he go?" Harry asked, a bit nervously, wondering if the Professor was just there somewhere around the corner, listening to them.

"He's gone flying for a moment, or perhaps he's landed and is walking to clear his head. I know my case was strong, and I think I'd have prevailed on my own. But your summation and analysis made it basically impossible for him to convict me."

"That's a good thing, right? For both of you, right?"

"Oh, yes, Harry. It would have broken his heart to convict me and send the referral to my Director. The consequences would be... severe. He would have gotten over it, but it would have hurt him terribly. Nonetheless, duty is duty, and such things must be faced.

"Um, John?"

"Yes."

"May I ask... what would the consequences have been?"

"No unaskable questions, Harry. If my Director had affirmed the findings on the referral, I would have been flogged. It's a supernatural flogging, with an instrument enchanted with body magic. There would be no injury, no mark, no bleeding. Just all of the experience, and all of the pain. Our part of the world is much more _'medieval'_ about crime and punishment, Harry. Administrative punishment is delivered with 'no mercy' and 'no comforts'. There is no magical reduction of the experience, and no magical enhancements to healing and recovery."

 _"THAT's_ what was going on here all that time?" Harry asked in utter shock.

"Yes, Little Brother. So, thank you for chiming in on the side of sparing me from that. I appreciate it," John handed him is cocoa, and tousled his hair with a laugh.

"Anytime, John. Anytime," and suddenly a lot of Harry's priorities shifted. "John, why would that be such a serious crime?"

"Because Aurors, good Aurors, are few and far between We're highly skilled, highly trained, and really expensive to prepare for the work we do. Any and all of us would lay down our lives for one another. So, one of the most serious dangers we are subject to is any one of us placing him/herself or others in unacceptable unjustifiable risk. We're all wired for hunting the bad guys and rescuing the innocents. That's very high adrenaline, Harry. Like you and your Quidditch. It's a rush. And if we do not make consistent and unrelenting efforts to discipline ourselves against an impulsive or impetuous decision, then we waste our own life, and perhaps those of our teammates.

"A flogging is a terrible thing, Harry. But it beats the heck out of going to the funerals of your friends and brethren. I've done that, Harry. It wasn't my fault, wasn't anybody's fault, but I've been to too many funerals. I'd sooner take that flogging any day, than cause one of those funerals. That's why it's so serious, so important."

 _Harry walked away with his cocoa, and wandered solitary over to the fireplace at Pavel's end of the apartment. He looked up at the shelves of books surrounding him, looked at the family crest over the mantle - the same as hung in the Professor's office, and then sat down to silently contemplate the flames. John could sense that Harry was thinking, pondering, considering all that he had learned this evening. John wanted to go to him, put his hand on his shoulder, tell him everything was all right, everything would be all right, but somehow he knew that would be out of order. Harry would walk back when it was right to interact. He would wait. He'd be here._

About 15 minutes later, Harry was still sitting by the fireplace when they heard the sound of Pavel's boots again striding into the room. Both Harry and John rose as he entered, and turned to face him. Pavel simply walked over to John, grasped him by the shoulders, and kissed him on both cheeks saying, "You are found justified, Ivan Konstantyn. Your actions did not constitute an unjustified risk this morning. Thank you for your actions." And John bowed, rather formally.

The Professor seemed tired, but peaceful and satisfied, as he refilled his own tea and went to sit down in the chair he had been occupying the whole evening.

Harry put down his cup and saucer on the table nearest him, strode over to stand in front of Pavel, and said, "Professor Konstantyn?"

Pavel raised an eyebrow, but could feel the resolution in the young man. Whatever this was about, Harry was deadly earnest. "Yes, Mr. Potter," he answered, noting that Harry had used his formal address. He put down his cup and waited.

"Sir, this morning I left the school grounds without authorization. I broke through the protective wards and boundaries set there for my protection and for all students. I entered the Forbidden Forest without permission or escort. I did these things because I saw a creature injured and in need of help. But I was not that far from Hagrid's hut at the time, and he is the Master of Magical Creatures, more skilled than I at such rescue and it would have taken me only seconds to go call or get him. Instead, I thought I knew better. Better than you, better than Professor McGonagall, better than the school rules.

"Sir, I am very sorry for that. That was wrong. I was wrong. And doing what I did placed you and others at risk. There is no excuse for what I did, and I offer none. I am not accustomed to asking for help, to trusting adults, or questioning my own ability to handle things on my own. But the world is filled with dangerous things, especially in my life.

"I disobeyed. And I'm truly sorry. I've got to learn better, and to stop and seek help even when I think I can handle stuff all on my own. What I saw tonight scared the crap out of me..." ... "sorry sir. But it's shown me something, too. I don't know everything, and I can't do everything. In fact, neither do you or Master John. But you work together and depend on each other. And that keeps everybody safer.

"I'd like to learn that, sir. All of it. The stuff I saw you do, and ... and the way you do it together. I don't like being told 'no', sir. And I find it really _REALLY_ hard to tell _myself_ 'no'. And that may be fine for a little kid, but it's not going to work out here in a dangerous world.

"So, sir..." he took a deep breath and swallowed hard, "you go on and teach me whatever I need to learn. And I'll learn to hear 'no' and obey it, when you say so. What I did was really wrong, I'm very sorry, and whatever it takes to teach me to mind... well, sir, I'm ok with that. I'm ready to take whatever correction you deem fitting, sir."

John was dumbstruck. Pavel just awed.

Pavel then rose in respect, to stand facing Harry, and said, "Mr. Potter, that is the most eloquent and admirable confession of fault in mutual accountability I've ever heard. Thank you. It seems you have learned and grown much just in the time since you came in here. Am I correct in believing that you now feel regret, remorse, and some shame at your actions this morning?"

"Yes, sir. Very much so."

"Do you feel deserving of severe punishment?"

"Actually, yes, sir. I didn't realize how stupid my attitude has been. It's selfish, and I've never seen that before. I'm so sorry."

"Then, Mr. Potter, you have already learned whatever a severe punishment could hope to teach. And that delights me, because making boys who live, especially _MY boys who live_ , unhappy is not what gives me pleasure. But to try to teach you what you have just explained to me so eloquently, I would have assertively sanctioned you. You have made that entirely unnecessary.

"So, it had been my intention to ground you, Mr. Potter. To restrict your liberty, since it was your liberty you abused, for the two days that you are not in detention. That restriction would have confined you to your room, except to go to the washroom, to class, to meals, and to scheduled study halls. You would be forbidden to attend any extracurricular activity. The restriction would also forbid recreational conversation, that you could not initiate conversation with anyone, and are to answer with brevity.

"Would that strike you as a fair consequence for your actions?"

"It would, sir. Though..." Harry hesitated.

"Yes?"

"Well, I think I owe Professor McGonagall an apology, too, sir. I know I scared her to death, and that's just not fair to her. I'm sorry for that."

Pavel smiled. "Well, Harry, I think we can take care of that. However, you notice I said _'it HAD been my intention'_ to ground you. That plan is no longer valid. You have already learned, quite sincerely, the very lessons I had hoped this restriction would give you time to learn. Therefore, you are hereby sentenced to being grounded to your room, for the duration of one night... from 11:00 pm tonight, until 7:00 am tomorrow morning, or possibly 8:00 if you want to sleep in for a bit. That is the entirety of your punishment for your atrocious judgment this morning. Is that clear?"

"Uh... that's it? Really? I guess so, sir."

 _Pavel shook his head, as John did also, turning away to laugh, and prompt in a stage whisper... "Little Brother, that's NEVER the answer to 'is that clear?' Try again, quick!"_

Harry responded with a start, "Oh... sorry sir... Yes, sir! That's clear, sir."

"Thank you, Harry," Pavel laughed. "Now give me just one moment," and he sent his mind questing for Minerva, hoping she'd not yet been seated at the Head Table. It was only 5:45, so he hoped for the best, and sure enough, she was just finishing up grading those essays in her office. Pavel called through her floo, "Professor McGonagall, have you a moment?"

"I do, Professor," she got up and walked to her fireplace.

"Would you be so kind as to join us in our quarters?"

"Certainly," she answered, stepping through in a flash of neon green. She found herself again in the comfortable parlor of the Konstantyns, now facing the 'whole family'. "And what was it you needed, Professor?"

"Mr. Potter here, asked for the opportunity to say something to you, and we thought, _'no time like the present'."_

She turned to Harry, "And what was that, Mr. Potter?"

He looked her straight in the eye, and said in a strong clear voice, "Professor McGonagall, I wanted to say how sorry I was. I was stupid this morning, and I make no excuse for that. I thought I knew better than anybody else, and could take care of a situation I could have gotten help for. I don't need to leave the grounds without authorization, or break the wards, or enter the Forbidden Forest. That was wrong, and dangerous, and could have gotten other people hurt. Besides that, I know you worry about me a lot, and you care about me. You were scared when you brought me to Madame Pomfrey's and that was my fault. I'm really sorry. And I'm going to do my best to learn not to do that kind of stuff. Thanks for putting up with me, so much."

"Well, Mr. Potter, that's the finest apology I've heard since Professor Konstantyn apologized to me for his wrong behavior Tuesday night. Come here, you scamp!" she said, as she extended her arms and they hugged for quite a while. "You did, and DO scare the life out of me sometimes, boy!"

"Yes'm. I know."

"Well, Harry," letting him go, "that's what little boys do... and so it's fine, as long as you learn to mind. I think you're making fine progress on that."

"Yes, Professor," Pavel picked up the conversation. "As to your note, Mr. Potter, having learned a number of his lessons tonight without benefit of violence, has been sentenced to being grounded to his room... on restriction... from 11 tonight to 7 in the morning, or 8 if he wants to sleep in. But there's only one problem with that, that we thought you may want to be here to help settle.

"Harry? How do I ground you to your room when you misbehave, if you have no private room to be grounded to? After all, it's no hardship to be grounded to Gryffindor Tower... you've dozens of friends there. So instead... Minerva, would you do the honors?"

And Professor McGonagall went to Harry's bedroom door and opened it. "Welcome home, boy. This is your room now."

Harry just stood there in the doorway, mouth agape. He wouldn't even step inside.

"Well go on, son. It's YOUR room, you know!"

Harry just turned around and looked at them, as tears began to fill his eyes. "Are you SERIOUS?! Is this really MINE? All MINE? You don't understand, I've never had a room before! I... I can't believe it."

"Well, believe it, Harry. No ward of mine is going to have 'John's second bedroom'. Professor McGonagall helped decorate it."

"Wow! Thank you, everybody! Professor McGonagall, you even knew about the Cannons! Cool!" and Harry found himself circling the room, poking into all the drawers, cupboards, nooks and crannies. "And look at the books! And there's quidditch stuff! Wow!"

Pavel and Minerva stepped away, as John stayed watching Harry discover the joy of his own private space. He went over and explained about the little parlor set up in there, in case he wanted to have Ron or Hermione, or other students come to visit.

Paul and Minerva heard the boy exclaim to John, "You mean I get to have friends over when I'm here? Like a 'real' kid?" as they heard John laugh and assure him that yes, indeed, he did... since he _WAS_ a "real" kid.

Paul asked Minerva, "Kind lady, would you do us the honor of sharing our table with us for dinner? I think the issue of 'awkwardness' has gone by the boards."

"It would be my pleasure, kind sir. Just let me send a house elf to explain our absence, and let Ron and Hermione know that neither of us have killed their friend. I know they're worried to death. What in the world's gotten into the boy? He's always been a good lad, but something has changed. Something very good. He's lost a whole layer of foolishness somehow."

"I'll be honest, Minerva, I have no idea. Not really. It was John. Something in their interaction. I was planning fairly typical discipline until just a little bit ago, when I went out for a walk. When I got back, Harry walked up to me, made the most transparent, self aware, confession of true remorse, contrition, and understanding... there was nothing left to punish. He'd truly 'learned his lesson' and recited it to me letter perfect, meaning every single word. He expressed his repentance, and volunteered to receive any punishment I deemed appropriate. When I told him what I had originally planned, two days of full Jesuit grounding... grounding to your room with silence, no activities, no privileges, he was fine with that, but said there was something he wanted to add."

"And what was that?" Minerva looked puzzled.

"He wanted to apologize to you, for his foolishness, his disobedience, and scaring you to death when you took him to Madame Pomfrey. That's when I called you."

"Well, Paul, I don't know what's happening or how you're doing it, but heaven bless ya. I'll be delighted to join this housewarming tonight."

"I wish I could take the credit, but so far, it's mostly been John. So... for now, let's retrieve the kids, and get some dinner, you think?"

 _"Indeed... and I'll bring the wine. Let's celebrate minor miracles!"_


	28. The Rest of the Story

**The Rest of the Story**

Sunday morning dawned bright and clear, as Harry woke in his comfortable bed, in his own room, in the Konstantyn Suite. He opened his eyes to a blurry world, wondering for just a moment if it was all a dream. But no, there was a _Tempus_ charm hovering over his bedside table with his glasses, showing the time to be 7:45 a.m.. As he put his glasses on and looked up, the sky overhead shifted from nighttime stars to the clear blue sky showing outside. The ceiling was charmed to reflect the weather of the moment when he awoke, so that he could dress appropriately if he was planning outdoor activity.

On a clothes stand to the side of his bed, there was a royal blue plush bathrobe in his size, complete with the family crest embroidered on the breast. He'd have to ask about that sometime. His bedroom slippers were neatly set at the side of his bed. He rose, slipped on the houseshoes, snuggled into the robe, and shuffled his way out the bedroom door to make his way to the water closet.

John and the Professor were sitting at the round table off to the side where dinner had been served the night before, drinking coffee and eating some morning baked goods.

"Morning, Sleepyhead!" John called out cheerily. "About time you showed up, we've almost eaten all the croissants! I think there may be a little hot cocoa and pumpkin juice left around here someplace." Harry waved with a big grin, saying he'd be right there in just one sec. Finishing his ablutions in record time, Harry did, indeed join them at the table. He found a cup of steaming cocoa, a plate with a croissant and a small danish pastry on it, and various jams, marmalade, and butter within reach.

"How did you sleep?" the Professor asked.

"Like a baby, sir. It was wonderful. I love what you did with the ceiling. Those stars _move_ through the night! I woke up and looked a couple times."

"Yes, Harry," he smiled. "The sky reflects the outside sky. They keep pace, and can even show the weather of the moment. If you wish, you can let clouds, rain, or whatever seem to be happening. None of what falls will reach your head or the floor, but I still find the effect distracting. I prefer just to see the clear sky."

"So, congratulations, Harry," John said, nodding with a smile as he reached for another pastry.

" _Congramulafons_?" Harry mumbled around a mouthful of cheese danish, looking up, " _few_ ' _wat_?" as he tried to keep from spitting crumbs.

Pavel chuckled, "Manners, Harry..."

Harry straightened up immediately with a bit of embarrassment, took a big gulp, and said, "Sorry, sir..." then looked at John and articulated much more clearly, "for what?"

"For surviving your very first grounding by Papa. I think you held up manfully! Now, the proper thing, since that is the last of your 'sentence', your 'correction', is to ask _him_ if you are finished and he is satisfied. That is how correction ends here."

"Ah, ok," Harry replied, curious about these new customs, and not feeling awkward since it was just the three of them sitting here. Pavel had put his newspaper, _Pravda_ , down when Harry joined them, and just enjoyed his company as they ate together. Harry decided to experiment, mind speaking to John, _"Am I supposed to stand up?"_

John smiled as he replied in kind, _"No. Sitting right there attentively is fine. But that's a good question. Well done."_

Harry put his food and butterknife down, let his hands fall to his lap, looked at Pavel saying, "Professor, is my correction satisfactorily finished now?"

Pavel smiled, also attended exclusively to Harry, and said, "That depends, young sir. You know what you received correction for, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, right now, if you found yourself in the same circumstances, would you do the same thing? Or would you be obedient?"

"I would obey, sir."

"Then yes, Harry, your correction is successfully finished. You are again at liberty, but for the detentions assigned by Professor McGonagall. Thank you, well done. You may eat."

And John playfully batted at Harry's head, to which Harry responded with a gentle swing of his own.

"Gentlemen!" Pavel raised his voice with a head tilt and slight smile... which stopped the action in mid swipe... "Both of you! Not at the table! or _BOTH_ of you will find yourselves standing in the corner for the next 10 minutes."

"Yes, Papa," John grumbled.

"Yes, Professor," Harry mumbled.

"Good, now it's about time to get dressed, and I think we should probably make ourselves known at the Great Hall for proper breakfast. Harry, your friends probably think I've killed you by now."

"Yes, sir," Harry grinned, returning to his snacks and cocoa. "Oh... oh... Professor, could I have them come and see my new room after breakfast? That would be _SO_ _cool_!"

Pavel had lifted his paper to continue reading a bit while the boys bantered, but now put it down again to think, saying, "Yes, Harry, that will be fine. Be aware, that room is yours and you may come and go as you are able. Generally speaking, though, I would prefer if you did not entertain guests unless there is an adult here with you. That can be us, or even Professor McGonagall or other faculty. And in an emergency or if you have great need, you may have your friends here without an adult... but if you make that decision, be prepared to defend and justify it. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"Excellent. Now, if it's all right with you, I'd like you to pack some clothes and things when you come with your friends, that you'd like to keep here in your drawers and wardrobe. I know that you may want to replace some of your belongings, and I thought perhaps you and John could do some shopping in London this afternoon. There's just way too much empty storage in your room, and you may want some books, some playthings, and some clothes and such for yourself. I can speak to Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster for permission. Would that be ok?"

Harry was so stunned he simply stopped chewing, and sat there with food in his mouth. He almost started to answer before remembering his manners and nodding while he swallowed. "Professor, you're asking me if it's all right for John to take me _shopping_? To pick out stuff for _myself_? Oh, _heck_ yeah! That would be _super!_ I've always only had Dudley's castoffs, except for presents I got from Mrs. Weasley or something."

Pavel was determined not to make a big issue of this, in service of helping Harry just feel 'normal'. So his tone was simple and matter of fact as he said, "Well, Harry, that was then and this is now. My ward will have the same privileges, percs, and responsibilities as my other son. We will exercise extreme care, and John will alter your appearance and magical signature before you go, and you will remain _in... his... sight... at all times. Is THAT clear?_ " This last was delivered in the unmistakable stern tone that said this was by no means a _"suggestion"._

Harry looked him straight in the eye and said with great gravity, "Yes, sir. I understand completely."

"Very well," Pavel smiled. In the same moment, he mind-spoke to John, _"If you think you could survive, you could see about asking if Hermione and Ron...?_

 _John smiled and replied, "Sounds good, Papa. I'll have a couple of my London men trail us for overwatch. Do you have the Bank Card for the shopping?_

 _"I do, and you can treat them all to some things, but don't go too far. In truth, we don't want to spoil them. Perhaps a book, a toy, and your meal for each of his friends, and get Harry what he should reasonably have here at home. The Dursley's clearly never gave him a gift in his life. We'll not try to catch it up all in one go, but we'll gently coax him out of the mindset of the 'deprived orphan'. I'm sure you can remember what captures the interest and imagination of a small boy, no?"_

 _"I think I can wing it, Papa."_

 _"I trust that you can, my son. I'll speak to Minerva about authorizing Hermione and Ron."_

The day passed without a hitch, as probably one of the greatest days in Harry's life, right up there with his first arriving at Hogwarts and his first Christmas with the Weasley's. John may have gone just a little bit overboard with the toys for Harry, but truth be told he looked forward to playing with some of them with Harry himself. That was his story and he was sticking to it. The toy shop they visited was a bidimensional store, with both muggle and magical shopping available. So John did get Harry a really nice set of Wizard's Chess, that was probably more expensive than Papa had in mind, but John knew he'd not cavil when he saw the set.

They discretely shrank and pocketed all the items, and finished their journey with taking Tea at Harrod's. John laughed to realize Papa really would have a fit about that, a _"foolish extravagance"_ he would growl. But seeing Harry's joy at all the choices and knowing this was all for him, Papa's heart would have melted. He'd never been taken "out to eat" before.

John's heart burned whenever he thought of the Dursleys. He knew if Papa were still a magistrate, and this had happened in his jurisdiction with John as Auror... rather than sitting there with a fortune right now... he'd have had them arrested by the evening they witnessed the memories, they'd have been tried by lunch the next day, and executed by supper. It wasn't just that a _child_ was so abused and maltreated, but that they had knowingly so treated a _wizard_ of such extraordinary power and pedigree, even when they had fair warning through his bursts of accidental magic. A child like Harry was recognized as a "force", almost a "weapon". The Dursleys would be executed for knowingly and negligently creating a deadly public hazard. The boy, Dudley, would simply have been flogged and sentenced to remedial school for "rehabilitation" and "re-education". This British culture, with their insistence on "human rights" had much to be said for it. But John still regretted that the Dursleys would benefit from that. Ah, well, nothing for it. Rich and warded they would remain.

Shortly before supper, John arrived home with his happy trio, still flying on a sugar high. He just had way too much fun sitting off to the side, as Harry had to show Pavel everything he'd gotten, and some items twice. John caught a grimace or two, and a definite look or two of disapproval, as Papa rolled his eyes at some of the "fashions" of tee shirts, and the noise potential of some of the toys. When he saw the beautiful Wizard's Chess set, however, John was pleased to see that he truly approved. Harry deserved it, and it should serve him well for years to come.

When the fashion show and display finished, Pavel rose and instructed, "All right, children. Put some of your things away here, and separate what you want to store in your dorm room. Wilfried can pack those away for you while we go to dinner. That reminds me, Harry..." Pavel walked to a cabinet near the dining table and took out two potion bottles, "Professor Snape stopped by while you were gone," Pavel ignored Harry's eye roll, "and dropped these off for you. Your physical exam shows that you're a bit malnourished, which is why your size is about two years behind most of your classmates. You will use these tonics, a spoonful daily, until they are finished. We'll then check on your progress and see where we go from here." Pavel handed him both bottles, with instructions to go take his medicine.

Harry took them with a look of disgust, and said, "Do they taste awful?"

"Probably. But you've been through worse. We'll head down to the Great Hall afterwards. You can wash the taste out of your mouth with pumpkin juice. Go on, now..." and Harry scuffled away with all the enthusiasm of a galley slave. All finished, Harry and his friends headed out through their exit door, as John and Pavel took the grownup route.

At the Great Hall during supper, Harry mindspeaks to ask if he, Ron and Hermione can come home until curfew? Pavel asks if his schoolwork is prepared for the next week... homework, test preparation if any, and essays or projects in progress. Harry tells him he'll have some projects due later in the term that he's not worked on yet, but his homework is finished and he has no tests that he knows of. Permission is then granted, and Pavel takes some time to bring his colleagues up to speed on all the current developments.

* * *

"Now I have a question," Pavel said quietly to Minerva, Severus, and Albus. "What can you tell me about this 'Heir of Slytherin' business? We know Harry speaks Parseltongue, we heard him the other night. I've heard about the graffiti. But what is all this about, what can you tell me?" John and he listened carefully as Minerva told the story of Salazar Slytherin and his rumored Chamber of Secrets, rumored to contain a monster that only the Heir of Slytherin could control. She recounted the death of Myrtle Elizabeth Warren in 1949, and the subsequent expulsion of Hagrid. But she shook her head to admit that the Castle had been searched exhaustively, but no sign of any such chamber had been found.

"Let me ask you this, then," Pavel continued. "What do you suppose are the chances that Harry and his friends are leaving this 'mystery' alone, rather than trying to solve or get involved in it?"

Minerva laughed, saying, "up to last night, Paul, I'd have said there was a snowball's chance in the nether regions. This is the sort of thing they are drawn to like moths to a flame. Now? I don't know. I know the temptation will be there. Whether they can resist that would be another matter entirely. Especially as a number of students have concluded that Harry must BE the Heir of Slytherin since they heard him speak Parseltongue, and he found the petrified Mrs. Norris, Mr. Filch's cat."

"By the way, Minerva, is it true that Mr. Filch holds Harry responsible for that?"

Albus interrupted, "I'm afraid so, Pavel. He is still very angry indeed, and is certain Harry is behind it. He wants to 'see some punishment'."

"Ah, thank you for letting me know. Minerva, perhaps you could have a word with Mr. Filch, since he'll have three hours of opportunity this week. I shall have a word with Harry."

"Thank you, I will, gentlemen. I'd not thought of that when I made the assignment. Perhaps I should change..."

"That won't be necessary, Minerva. Harry will be fine, and I don't have to tell you... to modify your punishment, be seen to soften it, especially right now, would send our young man the wrong message. He will be perfectly safe, rest assured."

"All right then. Why these questions, what are you thinking, Paul?"

"I'm thinking it may be time to have a conversation with three very bright, very curious, investigators this evening. To tell the truth, they may well develop information much harder for us to get to. The tricky bit is how to keep them under control and safe through the process. I'm sure we'll think of something."

Albus laughed, "I'm sure you will. Among you, I'm sure you will."'

When the kids arrived "home" after dinner, John and Pavel were in lounging robes and the atmosphere was very relaxed. Pavel wanted to "interrogate" the children on what they knew about the "Heir of Slytherin" business, but realized that he had so effectively cultivated his intimidating personna, they would probably be best advised to let John "chair the meeting". Between the two of them, as they'd come to know Harry, and knowing how bright and quick both Ron and Hermione were... they were probably already up to something.

"I don't think we'll keep you too long, guys. But we'd like you to let us in on some stuff, since we're new here. Also, since you're getting to be 'family', there's some things you should know. First, some 'big picture' stuff. As I'm sure you now realize, Papa and I originally came here to hunt down some people who want to hurt Harry. We came to protect him, and catch the bad guys. Papa is, really, a teacher and professor. That's what he's been doing for the past 10 years, and he taught at Durmstrang a few years before that. So, there's nothing 'made up' about his teaching. However, Papa has done some other things in his life, like be an Auror, teach and train Auror's and Intelligence Operatives, be an Inquisitor for our department, and he's even served as a Magistrate - a judge - in certain high profile, high priority cases. I don't need to tell you to keep these things to yourselves, but Harry needs to know and if he knows, he'd be hard pressed not to tell you. So, first we want to be up front with these things, so you don't think we're hiding secrets or that there's a hidden agenda to our commitment to you, Harry. You saw, and felt, the oath you and Papa took. There is nothing 'calculated' or 'political' about that. That is a free and binding commitment of your two lives together, you have become Papa's apprentice because you earnestly asked him for the training that entails, and now you're as much my brother as if you'd been born here.

"Let me stop there and ask... does anyone have any questions?"

Harry and Hermione just seemed to be sitting, interested, and taking it all in. Ron was mulling everything over, and seemed to have a question on his mind.

"Ron? Something?" John encouraged.

"Well, one question that probably sounds silly, and then there's one that's in my mind that I can't figure out how to ask. I'm sort of afraid to."

"Oh... well ok," John smiled. "Go ahead and ask the silly one, and all I can do is affirm that as to the other there's no unaskable questions, and we know you don't mean any disrespect... so, you can decide whether to ask or not."

"The first is," Ron chuckled, "how should we address you when we're here, or out together away from school and all. Master Constantine, or...?"

"Ah, that one's easy. Here, or when we're out, I'm just Harry's brother... so 'John' is perfectly fine. Now, what about the other?"

Ron looked cautiously at Pavel and said, "What you were saying about the Professor... I've just had this feeling since the first day of class. I don't mean any disrespect and I know this probably isn't the best way to ask this, but..." he changed his focus to address Pavel directly, "Sir, are you as truly dangerous as I feel like you are?"

Pavel thought for a moment before answering, and John said nothing at all. He'd never seen anyone with the brass to ask his father such a question, though he'd known many a man and woman who had wondered exactly the same thing.

"In the way I think you mean that, Ron... Yes. Yes I am. But you never need to be afraid for that reason. The opposite in fact. I am wholly committed to Harry and your safety, security, and growing up well and healthy. I am as determined to care for and nurture you, as I did John. So let that fact give you peace, not concern. You have seen terrible things already in your lives, you've faced up to dangerous enemies in support of your friend. I have no doubt you will again, perhaps seeing more terrible things than those. But you are not alone, and yes John and I both are stronger allies than you yet have any reason to suspect. Headmaster Dumbledore has offered me a permanent teaching position here, and I have accepted. So I expect to be intimidating students here for at least the next eight years. After that," he smiled, "we'll have to see."

"Right!" seeing no more questions, John decided to move on. "Now, as you are all part of our household/family now, let me clue you in on the 'house rules', 'family rules', and such. It's pretty simple. Just like at school or your own homes, you follow the rules, be respectful, do your chores, obey the grownups. That's all pretty standard. However, it's completely expected and understood that 'stuff happens'. Rules will get broken now and again, adventures will call now and again, etc.

Here are the "Cardinal Rules", what defines us as a family, in our character and our integrity. Here are the prohibitions that will ALWAYS be met with correction: We don't lie, cheat, steal, break our word, or defy. Those are non-negotiable penalties. Period. Other misbehavior, slacking off, even disobedience... there can be 'negotiation' around that, and a lot will depend on degree, intention and other potentially mitigating factors. These five, the Cardinal Rules, very little can ever mitigate.

"There's only one mitigation on those, and it works on ANY time you sense being in trouble... and that's to get to Papa - or me, if you can't get to him or he's busy - and own up to the problem before it is discovered another way. Papa's a 'mind mage'. He can pretty well determine anything you know or think anytime he chose to. That's why he was an Inquisitor. BUT, he does not, and will not do that. That would violate you. It would undermine your free will and, as young people, cripple your capacity to develop integrity and good judgment in making your own decisions. He does not, and will not ever, invade your mind against your will. Any questions on any of this?"

"I have one, John," Hermione spoke up. "As to your 'house rules' and 'Cardinal Rules'... um..." she looked down and bit her bottom lip, "do those apply only to Harry, or are those expectations for all of us, since we're allowed in here."

John looked over at his father, since Hermione was so clearly announcing that somehow they stood in violation of something, already...

"Ms. Granger?" Pavel spoke, smiling, "Hermione, since we are at home, if that's all right?" she nodded energetically. "First, those rules only technically apply... to Harry. He is the one who entered into a covenant accepting my authority. However, knowing how closely the three of you are bonded together, I think it would be difficult for him to maintain his integrity, if the two of you did not consider those principles central to your own values as well. I have every confidence that all three of you consider lying, cheating, stealing, breaking your word, and even defiance to be wrong things you do not do. At least not... easily or trivially.

"I also understand, in certain extraordinary situations, that extenuating circumstances may bring one to deviate from one or more of those rules, especially to accomplish some simple but important goal. So, let me just say, I hold no authority over you and Ron, except as regards your performance and deportment in my class. I will leave it up to you then, whether you want to be held to this standard in this house, or when you are acting in concert with Harry, or whether you want me to relate to you as only 'Harry's parent' or a 'Hogwarts teacher'. If I find you violate one of my rules, I can bring the matter to Professor McGonagall's attention, and, if she feels it violates school rules in some way, she can attend to it.

"I can relate to you in a 'family way', like niece and nephew, or in a more 'professional way' as your professor only. Do you have a preference between those two options?

"I do, sir. I love my parents very much, and they are fine people... professionals, both. And they're very proud of me and all I do, but... but they are muggles, and they work hard to understand our world, but they really can't. I don't have any magical family at all, and... well I miss that. I'd be delighted if you were my uncle, sir. I could talk to you about stuff, and you'd 'get it', and it wouldn't have to be just about school information and grades and such. So, I'll be accountable to your rules and your guidance if you're willing, and if I get in trouble once in a while... well, that's ok, too. At least you'll understand.

"Very well, Ms Granger," Pavel said, softly and solemnly, "from this evening forth you may consider me as an uncle to you, as kin. I will look after you as though your parents were my brother or sister, and I expect corresponding respect from you. You may consider me, outside of school or when at home, Uncle Paul. And I shall consider you as my niece, Hermione. So be it.

"Ron?" the Professor inquired, "how about you? What's you're preference, family, or professor?"

"Well, sir," and it was clear Ron was torn, pondering all this. "I suppose with both Harry and Hermione accepting your rules as their own, it might be a little awkward if I didn't. So..."

"Ah, but that won't do, Mr. Weasley. You cannot commit to be accountable in and as my family just because others choose to do so. This can only work properly if it is your own decision. Your own choice because you decide it is what you want to do. So, what do you want to do?"

"Well, then count me in, sir. Your rules are pretty much the ones my parents have anyway, and I would sooner deal with you if I mess up than with Professor McGonagall. She writes home to my parents. You wouldn't do that, would you, sir?"

Paul had to laugh, "I doubt it Mr. Weasley... Ron... I'm more likely to do my own 'walloping', or grounding." He chuckled to see Ron turn in a momentary panic looking at Harry and John, who both laughed at him and shook their heads. "Ron Weasley," the Professor spoke softly, but solemnly, "from this evening forth consider me as kin to you. I will look out for you as though your parents were brother or sister kin to me, and I expect your respect in return. You will be as nephew to me. So be it."

Harry leaned over and stage whispered, "Grounding, yes. Walloping, no. Don't worry Ron, it'll be fine."

And that was priceless for Pavel to hear.

Time passed, in case there were any more comments, and finding there were none, John pressed on.

" _Goodness_ , Papa. First a brother, now cousins... our family is growing by leaps and bounds!"

"Hush, you. I can still stand you in the corner and pick up this discussion myself..." Paul laughed.

"Righto, then. So... Harry, Hermione, Ron... I'm going to come right out with this.

John picked up in a business like tone, "What do you know, suspect, or have you discovered about the matter of the Heir of Slytherin, and the Chamber of Secrets? Harry, you speak Parseltongue and even you've mentioned the Heir of Slytherin problem with students. The three of you are far too bright, too curious, and too 'free of encumbrance by rules' not to be investigating. Therefore, we are certain you _ARE_ investigating, and we want to know where you've gotten with all that."

The three of them looked at one another with slightly panicked, more than slightly guilty, expressions on their faces.

"Um, sir?" Harry piped up to Pavel, "could the three of us just take a moment in my room to discuss some..."

"Yes, you may, Harry. But let me say this first. You all flinched when John went through the cardinal rules, particularly the one forbidding stealing. So it doesn't take mind magic to see what body language speaks perfectly loudly. Now, you, Harry were not subject to my rules until night before last. Hermione and Ron had no covenant with me until now. So, according to an old legal principle called _'ex post facto'_ , the law didn't apply to you until, most likely, _AFTER_ you did whatever you've done that is a violation.

"Secondly, you may consider this entire conversation, from here on, as 'under amnesty'. You will not be corrected for anything you say or admit to having done, regarding this matter. The three of you have 'plots and schemes'. Granted. John and I _ALSO_ 'plot and scheme', it is in fact our life's work and we're very good at it. That is why we offer collaboration with you.

"We are speaking to you now as professional Aurors and spies, not professors. However, we draw the line at putting this school or anyone from it, at risk. We are also not at all excited about you breaking rules. However, depending on what needs to be done, it may be that faculty - such as ourselves - could accomplish what's needed without having to break any rules. We know you can do a lot of things well, and perhaps even gather information we cannot. And we are willing to allow, and even help, you do that. But what will NOT happen, is to encourage or allow you to take unreasonable or unjustifiable risks in your plans. Harry can tell you all about how serious we are on that.

"So, Harry, by all means take a moment in your room to chat amongst yourselves... and we will endeavor not to overhear."

"Thank you, sir..." Harry said, as he jumped up to head into his room, with his band of merry... persons.

Pavel laughed out loud as he felt Hermione cast _"Muffliato"_ on Harry's door. He wasn't eavesdropping at all, he just felt the magic of the barrier go up. It made him very glad she was with Harry. She would always have his back.

In only a very few minutes, the three of them came back out, and Harry took the lead.

"Right. So, Professor, given that we have complete 'amnesty' right now, yes?" Pavel and John nodded. "All right then, here's our current plan and what we've found out so far..."

Harry then laid out what little information they had, including the few times he'd seemed to hear a voice in the walls saying things like, " _Kill_ "... and " _Hungry_ "... and then it would be gone. He shared his suspicion that Draco Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin since he had a rabid hatred of "mudbloods" which seemed to be the focus of the threat, and that his family had been Slytherin since like, forever. Harry was candid enough to share Hermione's and Albus' doubts that Draco was involved, but he still believed it.

Harry then outlined the fact that they had started a batch of Polyjuice Potion, but it would take a month to brew, how they planned to knock out Crabbe and Goyle with doped cakes, then polyjuice into them and Millicent Bullstrode to interrogate Malfoy in Slytherin's Common Room.

 _John could barely contain shock from his countenance as he heard all this out, then mind-spoke to Pavel saying, "Holy Cow, Papa! I'm SO glad these three are on OUR side! That's a terrific plan, and the little buggers could almost assuredly pull it off!"_

 _Pavel answered in like manner saying, "I know, son. That's why I wanted them in covenant with us on all this. I don't want to be having to try to work around THEM at the same time as actual bad guys. Now, at least we can monitor and moderate them, aside from the truth that they really may discover things we do not."_

"Good plan as far as it goes. Let me ask a couple questions," Pavel responded. "Where are you getting the Polyjuice Potion? Brewing it yourself? Who is handling that?"

Hermione answered, "Yes, sir. I am brewing it."

"Do you have a secure place to work, where it won't be disturbed or discovered? And, are you sure you can brew it without error? Polyjuice isn't an easy potion to make."

"Yes, sir. We're using the second floor girls' room. It's haunted, so no one ever goes there," Hermione answered, "and you're right, it's the most complicated thing I've ever tried. But I am very careful, the steps are extremely clear, and I am keeping very good track of each step."

"All right. Now," Pavel smiled, "here's the tough question. Did you steal some of the ingredients from Professor Snape's stores?"

Hermione hesitated, then take a deep breath for the plunge, "Yes, sir. I did."

Ron and Harry hastened to interrupt, all in a jumble, _"Wait a minute... we all did this" "Don't blame her, sir, it was my idea..."_

Pavel held up his hand, "Peace, gentlemen, 'amnesty' means no one is getting blamed or prosecuted for this. If anyone were, rest assured, I would hold the three of you equally responsible, no fear. But I'm addressing my concerns now to Hermione... What did you steal, and how do you feel about that?"

"I stole the boomslang skin and the lacewing flies. I couldn't find them in the general student shelves, and I HAD to have them to start the potion. As to how I feel... I feel _terrible_. I'm _not_ a thief or a liar, and now it's hard for me to even _LOOK_ at Professor Snape. I keep thinking he'll see right through me. It's awful. I feel... dirty, somehow."

"OK, I'm actually glad to hear that. What you did was wrong, and violated your own personal moral code. But, if you had to do that to help keep Harry or Hogwarts safe, you were willing to. I praise that. But now, let me offer you another possibility... from now on, when you need something like that, will you talk to John or me, please? You won't be punished, and we may say 'no', but if the plan or plot is reasonable, we're likely to find a way to do it together. Fair enough?"

"That would be excellent!"

"Now, about you and Professor Snape. Would you like to make things right with him again?"

"Oh, yes... but I've no idea how!"

"I think we could smooth that path for you a bit, but it may cost you a detention with him. Maybe not, but it might. I'd like to suggest that you own up to what you took, and admit that you are making the potion. In fact, you should ask him to evaluate it before you use it. I know I would certainly feel better if he checked it over before the three of you swallow it... as much confidence as I have in your intelligence and care in potion making, it's still a first time endeavor for you, and we should always have such things checked by an expert, don't you agree?"

"Yes, of course that makes sense. But, sir... confess stealing his supplies?" she shuddered. "He'd _KILL_ me."

"No, Hermione. He won't. I guarantee. There's far too much paperwork to a school death. But he will probably dock house points, and you'll probably serve a disgusting detention, or be scrubbing cauldrons. I have no idea, that's his authority, not mine. But you'll be able to look him straight in the eye again when you finish, and you won't feel like a thief. Nonetheless, it's entirely your decision. As far as I'm concerned on that, this conversation never happened."

"OK, Professor. I can handle that. And I really would feel better if he approves the potion before we drink it. But how in the world are you going to manage that, without getting us _all_ in trouble?"

"Ah, my dear new niece, that's where I have to ask you to trust the _Senior Sneaks_ on this team. We'll handle that part. I'll let you know tomorrow or Tuesday when it's ok to speak with him and confess your crime, all right?"

"All right, sir."

"Good, then keep listening and planning. Let us know if you learn anything new. And research anything that occurs to you about this mystery. For now, go on and enjoy the rest of the evening. You've got about an hour and a half before curfew, and you're only 30 seconds from the Fat Lady's portrait here, so just enjoy yourselves and we'll be out here if you need us."

"OK, thanks Professors!" they waved cheerily, as they escaped into Harry's bedroom, shut the door, and cast " _Muffliato_ " again.

"John, you and Severus seem to have some rapport..."

"I'll take care of it, Papa. He'll be ticked, but he'll appreciate the elegance of the plan. I'll get him to cast a bit of 'amnesty' their way on his own."

Pavel smiled, "Let him take the points and give her a light detention. She feels guilty, and it won't meet her orderly sense of justice if she doesn't have at least a little punishment for her crime. She about read me the riot act when I gave her a detention in the library, and she thought the boys were punished severely. She didn't want to be treated 'like just a girl'."

"Fair enough, Papa. I'm sure Sev will be happy to make it sting a bit. It's going to chafe him that she stole from him. But he'll be fascinated to see if a second year can pull off a Polyjuice potion.

 _"I know I said it before, Papa, but I'll say it again. I'm sure glad those three are on our side!" And his father just nodded in heartfelt agreement._


	29. With Justice for All

**With Justice for All**

Harry was not an extremely happy camper as he headed to class Monday morning. He'd kick the dirt along his path... if he weren't inside the Castle.

As he and Ron had come home last night, 15 minutes before curfew at the insistence of John and the Professor, they went up to their dorm only to be set upon by Seamus and Neville. _'Where had he been?' 'What was going on?' 'Was he ok?' Harry mind spoke with Pavel asking if he could let them know he was apprenticed. If not, what was a good cover story? He was told that he could share his apprenticeship with his roommates, but to ask them to keep that private. That he now had a room in the Konstantyn's quarters, and had been grounded for getting in trouble Saturday morning. Harry was fine with that. Before saying goodnight, Pavel asked Harry to get with him briefly after breakfast in the Great Hall the following morning. They could step out the front doors, weather permitting, on their way to class._

The following morning, Pavel was relieved to find that he could walk down the hallways without clearing them. It seems that gesture was completed over the weekend. So, walking to his stairs from the Great Hall, he was able to step out the front doors without attracting undue attention, and saw Harry leaning against the battlement just a short distance away.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," Pavel smiled with the greeting.

"G'morning, Professor."

"Just one moment," Pavel said, drawing his wand and enveloping Harry in a violet glow, with just a hint of sparkle to it. He aimed the wand to bathe Harry in the light from head to toe, slowly allowing the light to soak him thoroughly. Harry could just feel a gentle warmth pour over him, and had learned to trust to the Professor enough not to object or resist. He was curious, but knew the Professor would explain in due time.

"There," Pavel said, putting his wand away again. "This afternoon you have your first detention with Mr. Filch, and I've learned that he still suspects you of being behind the petrification of Mrs. Norris. He wants to see you punished..." Pavel held up his hand as Harry drew breath to protest his innocence, "even though the Headmaster, faculty, and I all believe you have nothing to do with that." Harry settled back into calm silence.

"What I just cast is a form of charm that protects and deflects. It is not 'Turn About', but if Mr. Filch tries any sort of battery against you, whether 'accidental' or not... like something falling on you, or tripping you, or whatever... the 'attack' will fail. It will miss. Your armors would otherwise not protect you from staff correction or chastisement, but this will protect you absolutely from Mr. Filch, so you have nothing to fear from your hours in his presence this week.

"Now, in that Mr. Filch is staff, I want you to treat him with respect this afternoon while you do your work."

 _"Respect,_ sir? You're _kidding_ , right? Filch is a prat. He's just a bitter old squib who hates magic kids and students because we can use wands and he can't!"

"Mr. Potter," Pavel began, in the low silky tone Harry was beginning to recognize as the Professor's 'angry warning' voice, "I am not kidding in the least, and if you say that again in my presence - or if I hear that ever again from your lips whether you know me to be 'present' or not, I will assign you another day of detention in his service. You do not know him nearly well enough to judge what his motivations, his feelings, or his experiences are. _MISTER_ Filch works very hard, at all kinds of hours, to keep this Castle clean, healthy, and safe for students. You will show him proper courtesy and respect. Over these three days of detention you are to address Mr. Filch as 'sir', stand when he enters the room, and follow his instructions to the letter. In fact, you will simply treat him exactly as you would treat me.

"I did not realize the depth of your contempt for him, or the extent of your disrespect. I shall make it a point to speak with Mr. Filch after each of your sessions, to see if he is satisfied with your performance and demeanor. If I find that my instructions have not been followed, I will assign you another day in his service without the slightest hesitation or remorse. And that will continue until he has received three satisfactory days of your labor. Is that understood?"

"Yes... sir..." Harry mumbled, in a resentful tone.

"I didn't quite hear that, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir! I understand," Harry spoke up, in a clear voice.

"Good. Now let's head to our classes, and hope your detention only takes three episodes to complete, eh?" and Pavel patted the lad on the shoulder, sending him on his way cheerfully. Harry saw very little to be cheerful about as he headed to his Charms class in a foul mood, kicking the floor along the way.

* * *

At Noon the school gathered in the Great Hall for their midday dinner or luncheon. John, before sitting down walked by Severus' place and asked, "Have you a moment after the meal? When is your next class?"

"I shall be free until 2:00," Snape answered. "I was planning to walk down the the greenhouses to get some supplies from Madame Sprout after lunch. Perhaps you'd care to walk with me, if we seek privacy to our conversation."

"Excellent. That will work perfectly..."

"So what's on your mind," Snape asked, as they left the Castle and strolled out upon the green lawns toward the hothouses.

"I have a slight favor to ask," John began, with a conspiratorial grin.

Snape rolled his eyes and with a suspicious lilt to his voice, replied, "Oh? Again? What is it this time? Don't tell me you need another amnesty?"

"Funny you should mention that!"

Severus stopped dead in his tracks, "You have _GOT_ to be kidding me! Are you seriously trying TOTALLY to undermine the discipline of Slytherin house and destroy my reputation?"

"Oh, far from it my cheiropteran brother! Perish the thought! In fact, my proposal will allow for you to deduct some Gryffindor points and even assign a detention if you wish."

"Well, that sounds a bit more appealing..." Severus said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

"Severus! Your suspicions are unworthy! Here I am offering you an absolutely lovely opportunity to engage in a bit of clandestine investigation and potion pedagogy, and you accuse me of baiting you with a Trojan cauldron! I'm hurt!"

"I know there's a point somewhere here to this conversation. I also know I am being 'managed'. I smell 'Potter' somewhere in this. What has he done now, and why should I not treat him as he undoubtedly deserves for it?" Snape smiled, speaking with no real rancor in his tone.

"Ha! I'm going to shock you! It's not Potter! But... now that you mention it... there has been something of a misdeed committed, and the culprit feels terrible about it and would like to set things right. However, in that you are so effective in projecting your dour and intimidating persona, that person is loath to admit their fault to you and take their desserts."

"I... see..." Severus nodded slowly. "And your proposal is?"

"Well, I thought... perhaps were they to perform some difficult task... say, having to do with potions... say, brewing the notorious Polyjuice Potion... for say, extra credit... that you might see you way clear to overlooking their 'unauthorized acquisition' of Boomslang skin and Lacewing Flies? Or, if you were unable totally to overlook the transgression, perhaps simply dunning some house points and a moderated detention... along with checking the quality and safety of the potion when it is finished, before it is used, in say... a month? What say, old sport?"

Severus stopped and turned, ever so slowly, to face John on the greensward. "Are you seriously implying that a student has stolen supplies from my stores, is currently brewing Polyjuice potion on their own without supervision, and you expect me to evaluate the results when they finish and overlook the entire episode with a detention and some house point deduction?"

"'Expect' may be too strong a word. Let's say that is more the nature of my 'request'... that is the favor I am asking. Of course, I would not ask were it not in the most noble of causes. And, of course, strongly in the interests of quality education. Particularly with regard to Potions," John continued to project his strongest masque of innocence and nobility. "Perhaps we should think of this conversation as more 'hypothetical' at the moment. What would be your concerns?"

"My concerns? What would be my concerns? Are you out of your bloody mind? My potions stores are DEADLY. No student has any business 'raiding my larder' for their convenience. I don't have ANY students I would trust to brew a Polyj..." and Snape interrupted himself. "Wait a moment, wait a moment... that little minx! I should turn her over to Filch and let him hang her by her ankles in the dungeon!"

"Severus? What are you talking about? John interjected, with a slightly nervous smile.

"Granger! That bloody know it all. She asked me some questions last week, about the implications of stirring some potions clockwise versus anti-clockwise in various phases of their processing. It is covered in her text, and I thought she was just reading ahead, but there were some other questions as well. All of them would be relevant to maintaining safety when brewing Polyjuice. She could probably do it, too," he said, almost speaking to himself. "All right, John. 'Fess up. What's going on?"

"Well, Severus, we have a situation here of plausible deniability. Father and I are engaged in some investigation, to see if this Heir of Slytherin business has any connection to the Petrov matter. Some 'irregular' agents are assisting in those inquiries. There may... just may... have been a bit of larceny involved in the beginning stages of those inquiries, but there is now collaboration with proper authority, and proper oversight to the project. That has required some amnesty on our part, in order to acquire relevant information and operational plans. So you see, since we've rather given our word as to no 'catastrophic outcomes' here, as much as we want to read you into the brief, we're honor bound to provide some protection to our sources... ye ken?"

"Right. So, let me get this straight... _hypothetically_... Granger stole Boomslang skin and Lacewing flies from my stores, has begun brewing Polyjuice potion in aid of using it to discover something relevant to the problem of the petrification and Heir of Slytherin business. You're going to use your 'Baker Street Irregulars'... i.e. Potter, Weasley, and Granger... to investigate in places and by means more accessible to a student than faculty... and, knowing her, she feels terrible and wants to pay for her crimes with me. What's more, you want me to evaluate the potion when it is finished, and make sure the little terrors don't poison themselves, or transform themselves into Newts, or something equally ridiculous... In return for which you offer me the pitiful satisfaction of docking her a few Gryffindor points, and assigning her to cauldron duty for an hour! Have I 'hypothetically' got that about right?"

"Hypothetically speaking, yes... that would be about right. What say? Can we read you in?"

"And of course this entire project is 'off the books', so Minerva and Albus know nothing of it, as it's probably in complete violation of school rules? Yes?"

"Well, that... hypothetically... may be so for the moment, but we are in the process of tidying it up. Hence this conversation, etc."

"I see..." Severus sighed. "Well..." and Snape smiled a rather mischievous smile of his own. "In that you are floating a proposal before me, and are fulfilling a diplomatic role here, let me make a counter proposal you can discuss with the principals. My answer to your requests is, 'Yes and no'. I will readily engage in this conspiracy. But I am not lightly mocked, manipulated, nor taken for granted. You may assure any hypothetical wrongdoer(s) that I am, indeed, willing to resolve and reconcile any present... misunderstandings or unpleasantness. However, there will be no _a priori_ guarantees of amnesty or 'cheap grace'.

"Professor Konstantyn is a devotee of 'challenges', is he not?" Snape continued.

"He is..." John answered, cautiously smiling.

"Very well. Then let us see what our budding larcenist is really made of. I shall test her mettle. Please 'hypothetically' discuss my terms with the appropriate person, and her accomplices. I am willing, at our mutual convenience, to meet with them, along with you, Pavel and Professor McGonagall together. If she is willing to 'discuss' this matter with brutal honesty, I am willing to see it reconciled. But that reconciliation will involve nothing so anemic as a few points from Gryffindor and a day of detention. My terms will include, at minimum, points from Gryffindor, one solid month of detention, a very demanding essay, and something of a 'wager' that will risk her mid-term grade in Potions."

Snape had stopped their stroll towards the greenhouses to "negotiate", and now leaned back a bit with folded arms, smiling at John to see if his terms were accepted.

"Thank you, Severus. I'm sure, given the circumstances, that whatever resolution or challenge you pose, the person of interest will meet with a surprising display of character," John smiled with assurance. "And thank you. We all bring our differing skills and talents to this enterprise, and I feel much better with you actively involved in this effort. Your mastery of both the alchemy of potions, and the nuances of spycraft and planning, will assure all of our safety significantly. Let us gather this evening then, at our family apartments. Our privacy will be assured, and the children can get rapidly back to their dorm should our deliberations extend beyond curfew.

"And just to bring closure to another matter, I believe Mr. Pucey and Mr. Warrington will have finished their broom maintenance task by tomorrow afternoon at 4:00. Would you care to inspect their work at that time, or would another appointment be convenient? They have spent approximately 5 hours together on their penalty, since the incident, and I am satisfied with their degree of 'attitude adjustment'."

Severus smiled as he began again to stride to meet Madame Sprout. "Tomorrow will be fine," he replied, pleasantly. "This is shaping up to be a most enjoyable day."

"Thank you, Severus," John called, preparing to head off in another direction.

"My pleasure, John. Anytime," Severus replied, with a disturbing tone of satisfaction that made John very glad he had never run afoul of such a Potions Master when he was a student.

* * *

At 3:00, Harry presented himself at the office of Caretaker Argus Filch. He had changed out of his classroom clothes into jeans and attire more appropriate for custodial work. He was in no better a mood about this now than he had been first thing this morning, but he was resigned to get through it. Knowing he certainly did NOT want to be doing this more than the minimum required number of times, he politely knocked at Mr. Filch's open door, and said, "Excuse me, sir? Mr. Filch? Harry Potter here reporting for detention."

Filch had been writing some notes in his exhaustive files of student disciplinary complaints, noting on this occasion that a number of students - whose names he had noted on a scrap of parchment sitting on his desktop - had been "disturbingly loud and rowdy in the hallways between classes, showing inappropriate jocularity". Upon hearing the word, "sir" from Harry, his pen had stopped abruptly as he looked up, a bit startled. "What did you say?" he barked.

"I said I was reporting for detention, sir," Harry replied.

There... he'd said it again. No one ever said 'sir' to him. _He said nothing about it, but noted that it was odd. Perhaps Potter was up to something? Anyway, no mind. Filch stood, put on his jacket, and examined Potter's attire. At least the boy had sense enough not to report to detention wearing his white shirt and tie._ "Come with me," Filch barked, leading the way to some dingy spiral stairs down into the bowels of the Castle.

 _Harry knew one brief moment of panic as he wondered if Filch was seriously leading him to the dungeons to torture him. Then he remembered that he was safe from any harm, and just kept descending._ They emerged from the stairwell into a large chamber filled with tanks, pipes, and valve wheels... spitting and steaming with vapors. Light came up and intensified as they walked by, and Filch just kept leading Harry deeper along the corridors into another tunnel that took them to another similar chamber. In this second chamber, Harry saw some tools, wrenches, rags, a stepladder, and a disgusting bucket of something that looked and smelled foul, with some gloves and putty knives or spatulas there.

"Potter, I'm sure you turn the taps on your sinks or shower and never give a second thought to what makes the water come out. Well, the water comes out because of this apparatus, and it requires maintenance. In part, it's magic, and in part it's mechanics. You see these wheels every two meters or so along this big pipe here? And how other pipes come in to join this one?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, scrunching up his nose at the smell coming from the bucket.

"Each of these wheels, and the handles you see on those side pipes, need to be cleaned with these rags, wiping off the grease and lubricant on them that has accumulated dust, dirt, and muck... and then need a new application of the lubricant in this bucket. You need to climb up this ladder, reach in there... easier with your small hands than mine... clean the valve, then NEATLY apply a new coat of grease. You can see how much, and what it should look like when you are finished, by inspecting the valves already finished behind you. You will have to move your ladder and tools with each new valve you get to. Do you understand these instructions?"

"I think so, sir," Harry answered, trying to see one of the finished valves.

"Go on and climb up there where the ladder is, and take a good look at a finished one..." and Filch waited while Harry complied. "Do you have any questions?"

"No, sir. I think I can take care of this."

"Right," and Filch took a spring loaded kitchen type timer out of his pocket, setting it to 60 minutes and starting it off. "Well, do your work, then. When this bell rings you may return to my office, and you will be finished for the day. If you slack off, or these are not properly done, you'll receive no credit for this detention. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you," and Harry started moving his equipment to the next valve before Filch had even turned away. Without another word, Mr. Filch headed back the way he had come leaving Harry to his work. When the timer "dinged" an hour later, Harry set his tools and supplies in an orderly array, left his ladder under the most recently completed valve - he had done 15 of them, and had almost completed the chamber, but not quite - picked up the timer, thinking Mr. Filch may need it back, and retraced his steps to the Caretaker's Office. Again, he stood by the doorway from the stairs and knocked on the frame, seeing that Mr. Filch was again busy about his files.

"Mr. Filch, sir?" he paused until Filch acknowledged his presence looking up. Then he entered, putting the timer on Mr. Filch's desk, "your timer went off, and I nearly finished that room. Did you want to check my work, sir?"

"Not right now, Potter. I'll look later. You're dismissed for now. I'll see you back here Wednesday," he grumbled.

"Yes, sir. Thank you." and Harry left with a much more lively step than he'd arrived.

Mr. Filch tried to return to his notes, but couldn't quite concentrate. He finally gave up and decided to go look at those valves. _"Nearly finished that room"_ , the boy said. No student had ever done more than 5 valves in an hour's detention before. He must have done a slipshod job. But no, he saw as he inspected the work. These were well done. As good as he would have done, truth be told... Potter? Really? It all struck him as very strange. So, just reconciling himself to the puzzle, he returned upstairs to his notes.

As students and faculty made their way to the Great Hall for Supper, Professor Konstantyn "happened" to encounter Mr. Filch in the corridor, and took a moment to engage him in brief conversation. They parted company with the Professor's thanks and a slight bow, smiling as he walked on. Ron, Hermione, and Harry had met after Harry's detention, up in the Gryffindor Common Room, sitting at a table making sure their homework and studies were completed for the next day. Whatever else their new family arrangements may entail, they knew there would be no quarter given for failure in class preparation now, and it wasn't only History that they'd be held accountable for. Hermione's stomach was in knots wondering what her fate would be with Professor Snape, though he had given no sign of anything unusual when they passed in the hallways.

As the meal progressed at the High Table, Severus seemed to enjoy the evening with the air of the cat who swallowed the canary. Minerva could tell that something was going on, but she was wise and patient, knowing she'd hear about it in "due course".

With his best "innocent tone", Pavel said, "Professor McGonagall? Are you open to considering an... hypothetical situation?"

"Ahhhh," she said. "Do I gather I'm to put the looking glass to my blind eye here? Is there need of some judicial failure to take notice?"

"Well put, Madame. Yes. Yes there is. We've made some progress in our investigative planning, but some 'irregularities' may need to be overlooked or smoothed out."

This brought the faintest of snorts from Professor Snape, trying with all his might to look as if he were ignoring this conversation.

"I see," Minerva rolled her eyes. "Do I take it... that these 'hypothetical irregularities' are going to be appropriately dealt with, even without my own judicial notice?"

"Most assuredly, Professor," Severus smiled, with a grin of pure mischief.

"Well then, by all means count me in. I'm sure the outcome will be satisfactory," Minerva resolved.

So, with some delicate application of muffling charm right there at the table, the four of them discussed the entire situation. Minerva huffed a bit, upon hearing the details of circumstance. But realizing the advantages of the trio now having entered under Pavel's aegis, along with Severus' not-so-subtle assurances that he had a very satisfactory plan for the dispensation of justice... even though he would not fully disclose what that plan was... she relented to taking a more passive role in the proceedings than was her wont.

"Very well, then," Pavel concluded. "May I ask you to join us in our quarters at 8:00 this evening, when we will meet with the children and coordinate our efforts?"

"That will be fine, Professor," Minerva and Severus agreed, as the muffling charm was removed and normal table conversation picked up.

Harry had been watching his guardians during the meal, wanting to ask if he and his friends could come home this evening after supper and find out how things had gone with Professor Snape. As pudding was served, and the professors settled back with their tea, Harry seemed to have the right moment.

"Professor?" he mind spoke to Pavel.

"Yes, Harry," he responded, with a smiling glance Harry's way.

"May we come home after supper until curfew? We've finished our schoolwork, and we'd like to know how things are going, and maybe play a bit before bed."

"That will be fine, Harry. All three of you come ahead, but wait until we have left the Hall, so we're there when you arrive."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, Harry. See you all there then," Pavel concluded. _This was going to be a very educational evening, he thought to himself._


	30. Solidarity

**Solidarity**

John and Pavel "blinked" to their quarters when they left the Great Hall by the platform staff door, so they'd have a few minutes of privacy before the children arrived.

Pavel chuckled as he asked John, "How rough do you think it's going to be, son?"

"Hard to tell, Papa. I trust totally that he's not going to be cruel, but clearly he intends to teach one of those _'lessons she will never forget'_. I can't say it's uncalled for. I could hear in his voice that he was more angry about the potential dangers of attempting this in uncontrolled conditions and without supervision than anything. I think, knowing his Slytherin values, that he's not all that put out about the conspiracy of the thing. I suspect he was even a bit impressed at the planning and execution."

"Well, we will put the information to them, and allow them to make their own decisions. I will not interfere with his 'academic freedom' or the exercise of his authority in this matter. All choices have consequences, and I suspect she's made of pretty stern stuff. She doesn't want to be coddled, clearly."

"No fear of that here, Papa! I think that's the least of our concerns. You going to tell them, or am I?"

"I think, John, they'll ask... and since it was your conversation, you can just report what has been offered. For the moment, we are only in a hypothetical situation, so we'll see if she's willing to go through with this."

"You'd let her back out of this at this point?" John asked, with an upraised eyebrow.

"I would. I've given my word. But I would be surprised in the extreme were she to decline this challenge."

At which point, the three children were coming in the door...

Harry led the way, with a cheery "Evening, Family!" as he bounded forward towards John and took a flying leap, trusting that John would catch him in mid-air... which he did, and spun him around like an airplane, working his way over to some open space not to knock into any furniture.

"Heya, Squirt! You been behaving? I didn't hear about any write-ups today!" John teased.

"Pfft... as if! Between the Professor telling me off first thing this morning, then detention at 3. How much trouble could I get into?"

"No way I'm going to try to answer that, Harry. You'd take it as a challenge!" John replied, putting him down and greeting Ron and Hermione cheerily.

"That reminds me, Harry..." the Professor interjected. "I had a quick word with Mr. Filch this evening, and he was most satisfied with your work. Well done, thank you."

Harry was pleased with the praise, but frankly felt more relieved than anything else. That had all gone much better than he had expected, and he hoped to get through the week more or less unscathed. "Thanks, Professor. That's good to hear. Now, we wanted to play in my room for a while, but before that..."

"Before that, Professor, I wanted to know if there was any development on my situation with Professor Snape," Hermione interrupted.

"Yes. Yes there is, Hermione. There are refreshments and some snacks on the sideboard, by the way. Help yourselves if you'd like, though I know we've all just come from supper. That will be there anytime you like, so feel free. Now, as to Professor Snape, I think we should all probably sit down a moment and talk."

The children all blinked and took a deep breath, knowing this did not sound good. Everyone migrated towards the fireplace and parlor area, taking seats as the Professor opened the conversation.

"First, let me repeat... everything up to this point is under amnesty. John had a 'hypothetical' conversation today with Professor Snape, leaving all your choices utterly open to you. They explored some elements of 'crime and punishment' so to speak, and we have a general idea of the consequences resulting from you deciding to own up to the Professor. John will share that conversation with you, so that you can make an informed decision. Should you decide not to proceed, there will be no action taken on the part of these conversations. If you are found out by some other means, or in the natural course of events and school administration, you will be disciplined accordingly. But none of these conversations will bear on that. Your amnesty is secured by my word, and that is inviolate. Does everyone understand this?"

The children all nodded with quiet, "Yes, sirs." He was pleased that they were a bit anxious, of course. But they understood what he was saying, and felt the "safety" of the situation.

"Very well, then. John, carry on..."

"Well, on broaching the hypothetical possibility that Boomslang skin and Lacewing flies may have been appropriated from the Professor's stores without authorization, and used to begin the brew of Polyjuice Potion... which it may be advisable for him to check for safety before it is consumed by any hypothetical students, in the interests of garnering information on the matter of the Heir of Slytherin..."

Hermione's eyes were closed as she listened, perhaps in prayer...

"The Professor made it clear that were the liberator of such materials to identify him or herself, his primary concerns would be the safety of the involved parties, the technique and care of brewing, along with the overall danger of breaking into his stores in the first place, which include a number of lethal materials. The consequences he would assign to voluntary self-disclosure of such misconduct would likely include: A full confession of the theft and its means of accomplishment, both to him and this assembled company, including the appropriate Head of House, a significant punitive essay on some matter of alchemy or potions, a special project assignment of some sort that may carry the weight of the student's mid-term grade on it, loss of points to the appropriate house, and..." John heaved a sigh at this one... "thirty days of detention. I think an apology would go without saying. That's it."

Hermione's eyes opened at the mention of her mid-term grade, and she gasped, nearly in tears at thirty days detention.

Ron was the first to speak as he exploded, _"That greasy git! How dare he..."_

 _"SILENCE!"_ roared Pavel in a command voice that had been known to freeze the blood of grown men. "That corner, 10 minutes, _NOW_ , Mr. Weasley..." pointing to the right of the fireplace with the wand that was instantly in his hand.

 _"But, Professor,"_ Ron persisted, _"who does that prat think..."_

"That's 20 minutes, now, Mr. Weasley..." as the Professor interrupted a second time, in a much lower voice. "I am not accustomed to repeating commands, sir. Do not make me speak to you a third time. _GO! Corner! Now!"_

Ron fought himself, clearly wanting to talk back... but then, his shoulders slumped as he yielded, saying simply, "Yes, sir," and moved to the corner as ordered. The Professor twitched his wand tip, and a Tempus spell displayed a timer: 20:00 over the fireplace that began to tick down a second at a time.

"Excuse me, Hermione. I didn't mean to interrupt your deliberations. The floor, and decisions, are now all yours. I will support whatever you decide," Pavel said, gently laying a hand on her shoulder as he returned to his seat and put away his wand.

Harry put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, saying nothing, though he agreed wholeheartedly with Ron. He knew it would do no good to antagonize the Professor. Everyone just sat quietly and waited on Hermione.

Then, taking a deep breath, Hermione squared her shoulders and said, "Right then! When do we do this thing?"

Paul and John just looked at one another with a smile. "You're sure then? You know you can back out if you want, right?" Pavel asked.

"Yes, sir. But I'd feel so much better if Professor Snape checks the potion. And... well... I can't really complain can I? I'm the one who did wrong. How can I whine about taking punishment I've earned? Whatever happens, I deserve it."

Ron was struggling not to turn around and argue with her, bringing the Professor to say, "Don't even think about it, Mr. Weasley. You have only eighteen more minutes to be silent."

"Sir?" Harry looked at Paul.

"Yes, Harry?"

"By your leave, sir? Hermione was not in this alone, and I don't think she should bear the consequences alone."

"Well, Harry. I'm sure if you want to volunteer that statement to Professor Snape, he will be more than happy to accommodate you in some way. That is entirely up to you."

"You wouldn't be mad if I get in trouble... I mean... even _more_ trouble?"

"Harry, if you have done something wrong, or participated in doing something you feel is wrong, I will never be 'mad' at you admitting that, and bearing the consequences or correction for your actions. I will always appreciate a 'heads up', if it is something I don't know about, and you need to make things right with some other authority. And that's not to say that I myself may not 'augment' the correction if I feel that's called for. But no, doing an honorable thing to confess wrongdoing... especially if someone else is taking the blame or sharing the blame... that will not upset me at all."

"Well then," Harry went on, "I think I can speak for Ron also here, we're not going to leave Hermione on her own with this. We're all in this together..."

And Ron, standing obediently in and looking at, his corner, nodded his head energetically.

"Very well," Pavel said. "So be it. You're all in this together." and with a twitch of his finger, Ron's timer lost 5 minutes, leaving only 10 more to be finished.

"Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall will be here at 8:00, and we will attend to this matter then."

"Yes, sir," both children responded, a little anxiously, but more determined. Then they looked at one another as Hermione said, "All in this together, right?" Harry nodded, a bit confused, as Hermione smiled at him and went to stand in an unoccupied corner.

This brought a big grin to Harry's face as he nodded, "Got it... together. Right!" as he took another corner, to wait for the timer to ring.

 _Watching in amazement, John used mind-speak to his father..."Солідарність!" He refrained from laughter by only a mighty act of will._

 _"'Solidarity!', indeed, my son." Pavel responded. "I could not be more proud of them right now," he smiled. "We can truly make something of these."_

 _"Yes, Papa. As long as we can stay ahead of them," John laughed mentally._

 _"Quite."_

When the timer went off, Pavel instructed the children to go on into Harry's room and amuse themselves until he called for them. Their guests were due to arrive shortly.


	31. Inquisition

**Inquisition**

Severus and Minerva came through the floo right on time at 8:00 p.m. The found the seating arrangement adjusted for their purposes. Professor Snape had a central "head chair" with a side table, on which John served him some excellent tea. To the other side of that table was another slightly smaller, but equally comfortable chair for Professor McGonagall.

In front of these seats, a couple meters away, were three "side chairs", rather like dining room chairs for the children, and off to the side of this whole arrangement was a sofa where Paul and John would observe, with a low coffee table before them.

"Oh my, Paul," Minerva commented. "How formal! Lovely!"

"Thank you, dear lady. I find ritual and formality to be invaluable aids in discipline. Refreshments are on the sideboard. Please avail yourselves. Now, would you like to be briefed on how our discussions went after supper, or would you rather make your own discoveries?"

"For my part, I love surprises," Severus chuckled. "Minerva?"

"Let's just see how this plays out," she nodded, as they poured tea and set a small plate of snacks on the table by their chairs.

When all the adults were in their proper places and poses, Severus nodded to Pavel.

"Our guests have arrived, Harry. Would the three of you please join us?" Pavel announced, clearly heard in the bedroom, without raising his voice. They entered, clearly surprised at seeing the rearrangement of the room, and moved towards the three seats obviously set aside for them.

"Please be seated," Professor Snape instructed, watching as they did so. "Just rise to speak. Now, Professor Konstantyn has asked us to come because it appears that someone here wants to discuss some matters bearing on Potions. I am consumed with curiosity as to the nature of this discussion. Please feel free to illuminate me."

Paul had to admire this man's style. He wasn't going to make a single bit of this easy.

Hermione rose, gulped hard, took a deep breath, and began to speak in a clear sound voice. "Professor Snape, I am in the process of brewing a batch of Polyjuice Potion, for the purpose of investigating this business of the Chamber of Secrets and discovering who the Heir of Slytherin might be. I have a suspect in mind, and planned to use Polyjuice to trick him into revealing what he may know on the matter."

"I see..." said Severus, slowly stirring his tea contemplatively. "I notice you use the first person singular in all that, which we will let slide for the moment. More to the point, where did you acquire the ingredients to begin this brew?"

"Sir, I took them from your ingredient stores."

"You... ' _took_ '... Delicate phrasing that. What ingredients did you _'take'?"_

"Boomslang skin, and Lacewing Flies, sir."

"Those ingredients are kept in a locked and secured cabinet. They are not part of general student access storage. They are not authorized for your use. The cabinet in which they are contained, holds many lethal and otherwise toxic materials. Do you know why they are kept in a secured storage, Ms. Granger?"

"Yes, sir."

"And why is that?"

"Because they are hazardous materials. More hazardous than can be allowed in general access."

"Correct. So, you _'took'_ materials unauthorized, without permission, from my secured stores. Would you care to revise your verb there, Ms. Granger?"

"I stole the materials, sir."

"Thank you. Precision is everything in Potion making. Speaking of which... is your potion in a secure environment? Controlled for heat, humidity, and potential environmental contamination?"

"No, sir."

"I see. Well, have you experience in brewing this very complex potion? Have you done this before?"

"No, sir."

"Have you seen it done? Received any personal instruction on the process from a competent alchemist or Potions master?"

"No, sir."

 _Ivan mind-spoke to Pavel, "This is brutal, Papa."_

 _Pavel replied, "Oh, no, my son. I think he's just warming up. Wait, it's going to get worse."_

"I see. Ms. Granger, do you know how many steps there are to the proper brewing of Polyjuice?"

"Not exactly, sir. I know it's quite a few. Over sixty, I think."

"Eighty-six, Ms. Granger. And do you know how many ingredients are used in the process?"

"Not exactly, sir. About two dozen, I think."

"Twenty-two, Ms. Granger. And do you know how many of those ingredients are toxic?"

"No, sir."

"Eight.

"Ms. Granger, I'm going to be very frank. Am I angry that you violated my trust by stealing from me, from my lab, from my secured storage? Yes, yes I am. But that is not what gives me the greatest concern. Let us return to your consistent use of the first person singular here. Is it you alone who were planning to take this potion?"

At this, both Ron and Harry stood, saying, "No, sir. We all were."

"Thank you, sit down gentlemen.

"Ms. Granger, I cannot begin to express how many things can go wrong with a potion as complex as Polyjuice, or how dangerous it is to attempt to brew it in less than laboratory conditions. _Where_..." for the first time raising his voice by just a degree... "are you brewing this thing?"

Again, Hermione took a deep breath before admitting, "In the second floor Girl's Room, sir. No one goes in there because it is haunted."

Paul had to bite his lip as he watched Severus close his eyes to maintain his composure. Neither he nor John had moved a muscle since this began. They watched Severus pull it back together, as again he simply stirred, then sipped, some of his tea.

"Ms. Granger, this potion _trans... mutes... human... fleshhh..._ I cannot impress upon you strongly enough how _dangerous_ such a process is. Now, I have always had the impression that you cared about these two gentlemen. That you held them in high regard, in high esteem. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then _WHY_ , Ms. Granger... _HOW_ could you possibly be so arrogant as to risk their _LIVES_ , not to mention their well-being, on your personal confidence in infallibility? You could have KILLED them, Ms. Granger. Not to mention yourself! I once accused you of being an 'insufferable know-it-all'. I confess, in that moment my accusation was probably unjust. But I ask you, Ms. Granger... would such an accusation be unjust right here, right now?"

"No, sir," Hermione's eyes began to well with tears. "That would be entirely accurate."

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Ms. Granger. Don't blub! Professor McGonagall could probably cane those two beside you, without drawing a whine. You can't play for these kinds of stakes, and whinge at the reprimand."

"It's not the reprimand, sir. It's realizing that you are right. I'd never risk them this way. I wasn't thinking. I am so sorry. And I am perfectly willing to face my consequences... Without whingeing... or blubbing... sir."

At which utterance, even Snape had to smile.

"Very well, then, Ms. Granger... as to your consequences..."

He was interrupted as both Harry and Ron stood, saying... "It's all three of us, sir. We're as much at fault."

"Gentlemen, _don't_ interrupt me again! I will be happy to include you, in just a moment. For now, this is between me and Ms. Granger. Sit DOWN!" Severus reached into a pocket of his robe and brought out a small, brown leather, blank notebook. Handing it to Hermione, he said, "Take this. You are to copy the full instructions, ingredient list, and illustrations for the Polyjuice Potion in the first pages of this book. Then you will make a daily record of every step you take.

"You are hereby assigned detention with me for the next 30 consecutive days. You will serve this detention at 6:30 a.m. without fail, at my Potions Lab. Tomorrow morning, at that time, you will transport your current potion... _CAREFULLY_... to my lab, and we will see if it is salvageable. If I find it is not PERFECT for the step you are on, we will discard it and start again. Are my instructions clear so far?"

"Yes, sir. Quite clear."

"Very well. You will prepare a report of at least six-feet in length, on Polyjuice potion including consideration of its active ingredients, toxic features, including all hazards, warnings, and side effects. You will maintain your laboratory journal of your process while you brew the potion, and when finished I will evaluate the completed product. If it is safe and properly made, you will prepare a presentation on the process and project for my 7th year classes. I've not seen them brew a successful Polyjuice potion in the past 5 years. They may be inspired by your example. This project will carry the same grading weight as your Mid-Term examination, but that there will be only two available grades... _Outstanding, or Troll._

"Each morning, when you come to detention in my Potions Lab, you will first describe to me what you are to do, then you will do it, then note your actions and any results in your Lab Journal, I will check your journal and inspect the potion, and then you may leave. For the most part, you will only need to be there 10 to 15 minutes or so. But you will be there _Every Day, On Time_. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you have any questions, or anything further to say, Ms. Granger?"

"I have no questions, sir. And I only want to say two things. One, I am truly very sorry for being dishonest, and for my arrogance. Please forgive me. And two, I want to thank you for stepping in and mentoring this process. I can't tell you how much better I feel to know that we'll be safe. Professor McGonagall? I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, also. And if you want to add anything to what the Professor has assigned, well... I certainly couldn't object."

Minerva simply smiled and nodded for the moment. Severus still had the floor.

"Please be seated, Ms. Granger," Professor Snape instructed. As she sat down, he continued, "now, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, did you have anything to contribute?"

They stood, looked at one another, and Harry spoke, "Yes, sir. We just want to say that we're as much at fault as Hermione. And we don't think it would be right for her to be punished, when we're all responsible."

"Thank you, gentlemen. Well said. In that case, I'm sure you will understand that while a major portion of the correction being meted out here is the actual process of brewing Polyjuice, I think we'd all be best advised to leave that exercise to Ms. Granger and myself alone. However, in the interests of equity and justice, I am perfectly willing to see the two of you, dressed and in my classroom at 6:30 every morning of the 30 day detention period, with your schoolwork in hand. I shall see to it that reading and composition assignments for the week are posted at the front of the room when you arrive, and you may complete them while you serve your time. While Ms. Granger's time may be limited to less than 20 minutes, depending on the task she is performing, she carries the greater stress in her need to concentrate with great attention to detail. If you intend to perform a penalty comparable to hers, you will serve your detentions for 45 minutes, from 6:30 to 7:15 each day, when you may be excused to go to breakfast. Do you have any questions?"

"Um, sir? I have one, or two," Ron said.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?"

"Are you saying 30 days as in 'consecutive' days? Like weekdays _AND_ weekends?"

 _Ivan mind-spoke to Pavel, "I can't laugh right now, can I?"_

 _"Don't you dare, son. No."_

 _"But Papa, help me out here. I'm losing the battle."_

 _"OK, how about this? If you lose it, you'll face Auntie... and I assure you, she will NOT be amused."_

 _"Ah, thank you, Papa. That did it. I'm fine now."_

 _"Anytime, son."_

Professor Snape carried on, in his smooth sepulchral tones, "Yes, Mr. Weasley, this detention includes weekends, because potions being brewed do not know the difference between the two. Therefore, Ms. Granger will tend her potion both weekdays AND weekends. Even holidays, should any apply. If it is your intention to suffer equally with her, you will appear, on time, dressed in appropriate academic garb to sit in my classroom and do schoolwork for 45 minutes, every day... including weekends."

"But Professor, like how would that work on a Quidditch Saturday?"

"Well, Mr. Weasley, I suggest that you would rise at an appropriate time, dress as if for class - because you are attending a detention class, proceed to my classroom to be on time at 6:30, work on your assignments for 45 minutes, then return to your dorm to change for Quidditch, or refrain from doing so and go eat breakfast, or both. Is there any other question or confusion about that?"

"No, sir."

"Now please let me point out. Both you and Mr. Potter are NOT required to perform this assignment. You have stated that you want to be held equally responsible with Ms. Granger, so I open this option to you. Are you determined to voluntarily commit to this penalty? If you do, then you may consider it a binding commitment, and failure to appear without an acceptable medical or otherwise authorized excuse will be considered 'failure to appear for detention', with customary consequences. Whether you _accept_ the commitment or not is voluntary and optional. Once accepted, nothing more is optional, you will be there every day, on time, properly dressed, to perform your work. No excuses will be accepted.

"Now, gentlemen, how say you? Are you equally responsible, and willing to accept the consequences? Or no?"

"Yes, sir, I am. And I'm truly sorry we did wrong," Harry said.

"Me, too, sir. I apologize," Ron joined in.

"So be it," Professor Snape said. "I think that takes care of all of my concerns. As for me, you are forgiven and all is well. Would anyone else care to comment?" and Severus sat back, looking at Professor McGonagall and the Konstantyns.

"Well," Professor McGonagall began, "I have only three things to say. First, given that the three of you will be starting your days an hour earlier than you typically do, and that you're yet growing youngsters, I want ye going ta' bed an hour earlier as well. Lights out, curtains drawn for _YOU_ three, is 10 o'clock until your detentions are finished. I'm putting you on your honor about this, as I'll not embarrass ye by having the prefects monitor it. But if you are late, I expect you to inform one of us, whereby we will either excuse you for it, or take some appropriate corrective action. Second, while your actions showed a distinct lack of good judgment, this brings me to... Three, I'm very proud of all of you. This was a right thing to do, to make this right, and very courageous. Well done."

There was a barely audible, almost snort from Professor Snape at this, but Minerva chose to ignore it.

Everyone turned to the Konstantyns, as the Professor simply said, "I have nothing to add at the moment. Why don't you youngsters go on into Harry's room for now, and we'll call you in a few minutes for some pudding? Go on with you, _begone, waifs_!" and there was some distinct giggling as they dove towards Harry's door.

The adults all stood as the children's door closed and Pavel cast a muffling charm on it. Finally, John could get some relief as he started laughing without restraint. Within a few moments there was laughter all 'round, and even chuckling from Severus!

"Good heavens, Brother Bat! Where in the world did you learn to put the wood to someone that way? My word. I thought Papa was back on his Inquisitor's bench! You're brutal!"

 _"HARDLY!_ She's brewing a potentially deadly potion... for the first time... without mentorship... in a GIRL's LAVATORY? And then, she'll blithely take it with her two best friends? Did I hear something in the wind of a discussion of 'unjustified risk' being an issue with you? She's brilliant, and brave, and methodical. She'll be a force to be reckoned with, but we need to help her learn the importance of teamwork, checks and balances. Let experts do what experts do, and utilize all your resources."

"Give us a moment to return this 'courtroom' to its domestic status, let me have Wilfried bring us some _Apfelstrudel_ , cocoa, and tea, and we'll have the children back in to process all this a bit." So saying, he arranged the dining table to seat 7, made Wilfried an exceedingly happy elf by asking for a German specialty, and asked the youngsters to come in and join them seated together at the circular table.

As they passed around the strudel, and Minerva poured the cocoa first, then the tea, John had to chuckle as the children weren't quite sure what to make of all this.

John put the children at ease, saying, "the hearing is finished. You can relax. We are now gathered as 'co-conspirators' only, and 'colleagues'. You three need to realize that Professor Snape is as committed to getting to the bottom of these mysteries as we all are. That's why it was critical to bring him in when his skills are so important. Right now, there's no 'rank' at this table. There will be respect... there's always respect. But we are all respectful of each other.

"By the way, may I request, since it is already 8:30 and our discussions may run us a bit overtime, that the Head of Gryffindor extend a bit of leniency on curfew to these three tonight, Auntie?" John looked at Minerva with puppy-dog eyes.

"Perhaps, a wee extension, John. But they'll be heading to detention at 6:30 in the morning, so it'll not be too late they'll be going ta' bed."

"Thank you, and congratulations, Hermione. That was about as rough a raking over the coals as I've ever seen on a youngster, and you took your swats with nary a whimper."

"Indeed, Hermione," Pavel added. "And I did promise you, as strict and harsh as for boys, did I not? I keep my word."

"Yes, sir. Thank you... I think," she laughed.

"Now," Pavel said, "why don't you bring Professor Snape up to speed with all that we know, and what we're trying to find out."

This engaged lively discussion, as all the facts, both of the goings on in the Forbidden Forest, and inside the school with the Heir of Slytherin matters, were discussed. The burning question seemed to be whether there was connection, and how this all tied to the events surrounding the death of Myrtle Warren in 1943.

"Omigosh!" Hermione suddenly startled.

"What is it?" Minerva said.

"Moaning Myrtle!" Hermione answered.

"What?" John looked confused.

"Moaning Myrtle! Remember I said that 2nd Floor Girl's Lavatory was haunted? That's why it was empty enough to brew the... um... well... it's really empty?" she edited herself, as Professor Snape cleared his throat with a threatening look. "Do you suppose it's possible that Moaning Myrtle is this Myrtle Warren? She may know something about the Chamber of Secrets, you think?"

"It's very possible." Pavel said. He turned to his son, "Ivan?"

"I can try to find out, sure." He looked around as everyone looked at him with confusion. "I'm a Death mage. Well, not full power Death arcanum, but it's one of my strongest suits. I can... do things... like travel Twilight, and the underworld and I have particular affinity for ghosts. I'll check into it tomorrow, if you can take and introduce me, Hermione."

"Certainly, sure thing," she answered.

The discussion wound down, and Professor Snape brought the meeting to a close with, "well, ladies and gentlemen, I only want to say that besides the one or two minor points I discussed earlier this evening," and he looked Hermione's way with a smile and an upraised eyebrow, "I think you youngsters plot brilliantly. Now, just keep us in the loop and we will help, and we will endeavor to keep any of us from getting killed in the bargain. Agreed?"

"Agreed!" they all echoed and nodded.

Pavel interjected, "Just one more thing. Ron, was there something you wanted to say to Professor Snape?"

Ron looked a bit confused. "I don't think so, sir."

"Are you sure? Think again..."

"Oh," and memory dawned, "that..."

Severus sat back with an interested look on his face, "Yessss... Mr. Weasley?"

"Well, sir. I guess I owe you a bit of an apology. Earlier this evening, before you came, when John mentioned some of the conditions of our... well, Hermione's correction... our correction, actually, we agreed... Well, sir, I might just have said some rather, uncomplimentary things about you. I was distraught. I have a bit of a temper, and might fly off the handle a bit. Anyway, I'm sorry, sir. You're a good egg after all."

"Thank you for that, Mr. Weasley. I don't know that... anyone has ever called me that before." Severus said, in a tone that sounded suspiciously like shock.

"Right then," Pavel rose from his seat. "Let's call it a night then, before Ivan loses his composure yet once again. Thank you all for coming, and tomorrow will be an early day."

Severus left by floo, while Minerva went out Harry's door to be sure her Gryffindors had no problems with the Prefects when they entered the Common Room, from whence she could floo to her quarters.

And sure enough, the last guest just got out the door before John collapsed with laughter on the couch. "Oh, Papa. Ron is the absolute voice of mundane sanity. Between you being an 'all right bloke', and Severus a 'good egg'... Oh, my."

"Well, we'd best get to bed ourselves, young man. We've got patrols to fly in the morning, and you have an old young ghost to interview tomorrow. Rest well, son."

"You, too, Papa."


	32. Hope Springs Eternal

**Hope Springs Eternal**

The portraits lining the Castle's second floor hallways were treated to a rare sight, as three gowned and garbed students formed a little predawn procession escorting a malodorous cauldron to the dungeons. Ron and Harry weren't seriously entertaining second thoughts or resenting their decision to take their punishment with Hermione, but they did think there was something vaguely obscene about serving a detention almost an hour before sunrise. It just didn't seem right, somehow.

While Pavel and John stretched their wings outside, Hermione's entire focus was fixed on keeping her cauldron steady as they headed for Professor Snape's Potions Lab. Arriving, they found his classroom door open and him waiting for them at his desk.

"Ah, right on time. Good!" he said, rising to his feet. "Gentlemen, please take seats and begin your work. Ms. Granger, with me..." he commanded, leading the way into his laboratory.

Hermione saw that he had the ingredients, tools, and materials for beginning a Polyjuice brew, laid out on his workbench alongside a clear space.

"Please set your cauldron there," indicating the clear space, "and give me a moment to examine it. Please show me your Laboratory Journal." Hermione handed it to him, complete with the Polyjuice instructions, illustrations, and receipe in the first pages as he had instructed her. She had taken it upon herself to catch up her notes on the batch in process, so it showed the steps up through day 5.

"This is well done, Ms. Granger. What I want to do, is begin a second batch this morning. I'd like to observe your preparation of the ingredients, and let you get it started. I'm not going to hover, stare, or cluck at you. I simply want to assure both of us that when you chop or crush, squeeze or dice, a given material that it is the proper size and consistency for success. Books don't always communicate 'texture' well. So, don't let my presence make you anxious. Just let me know as you complete each step so I can check it over, and if you want me to show you something before you do it, that is just fine. It may save us some wastage. All right?"

"Yes, Professor. That's just fine. Shall I show you how I started this one?" she asked as he seemed finished with the first batch.

"Yes, please do. And this first effort seems safe and proper for being on Step 12. I think you may want to dice that mustard root just a shade finer on the new batch. It has to ferment completely through the month, and if it does not completely break down it can give the finished potion a rather unsightly lumpy consistency. I'm going to go grade some papers, so just call me if you need information or are ready to have me check a step," and he went back to sit at his classroom desk overlooking the boys, as they sat reading their assigned work.

Ten minutes later, and Hermione called the Professor to come see if she had things right. She did, and he approved of both her work and her notes. "Just one thing, Ms. Granger. This is a very good job of dicing these roots. The cubes are of uniform size and shape, and approximately 1 millimeter. Now..." he lowered his voice a bit conspiratorially, "here's a trick that's good to know... especially with a material as fibrous and tough as this? Crush these with the side of your knife to break down the firmness of the flesh just a little bit. Don't lose any of the juice, but now go ahead with your first simmer. You won't believe the difference that will make, and that technique may be useful for anything that uses that firm fleshed type of vegetable material. Just finish your stirring and you may go. Please hand me your Lab Journal." And he drew a large line across the page below her notes... dated and initialed it. Then, he went back to his classroom to correct some more papers.

Hermione packed up her books and papers, and was ready to leave. She felt awkward to just go on her way and leave the guys out there still in detention.

"Ms. Granger?" the Professor's voice reached her clearly in the lab.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Go your way. I shall not harm these gentlemen, and they will meet you in the Great Hall for breakfast in just a few minutes... 20 or so, by my reckoning. You have fulfilled your obligation and you are dismissed. They, have not. Go your way, and carry on, please."

"Yes, sir. And thank you for all the help," she said, as she passed by his desk on the way out.

"I live but to serve, Madam," Severus entoned, voice dripping with sarcasm, as he flicked his hand in a gesture of dismissal. Twenty minutes later, without even looking at a clock, he said, "that will do, gentlemen. You are dismissed. I shall see you here for class later."

Harry and Ron gathered up their materials, packed them away in their cases, and scurried out like rodents from a sinking ship. One would think they were afraid of being called back in.

"Thirty days of THAT's going to be terrible!" Ron commented, as they started up the stairs towards light, heat, and humanity.

"Well, it certainly stinks that it's before the sun's even up... But we did lose the History of Magic study hall. At least we've got a good way to keep up with our homework for this month. Just a heads up, Ron. The Professor's going to be checking up on yours, too, now. You don't want to fall behind or let your grades slip on anything, now."

"Bloody hell, Harry. You mean we're supposed to get 'Outstandings' in everything now?"

"No, not at all. John and I talked about this... the Professor, too. At least for me, I just have to 'keep up' with everything. Not slack off on any assignments or fail to study properly for tests. I don't have to have perfect grades in everything, but I do have to make sure everything is turned in and prepared as well as I can do it, on time. And I think, since we're going to hang out together and all... he'll require the same of you and Hermione."

"Pfft! As if Hermione's going to require a lot of checking!"

"Right. I know she'll always be ok with this stuff, but you and me... well, thought you might want to know ahead of time."

"I guess. Thanks, Harry."

* * *

Tuesday classes went by smoothly, hallway transit had returned to normal, and again there was that slight "buzz" in the air about Dueling Club that night.

Draco Malfoy made it a point to jam Harry in the shoulder passing in a corridor. "See you TONIGHT, Potter. If you have the guts to show up!" he hissed.

"No fear, Malfoy. I look forward to seeing you..." Harry whispered back.

This would be the first opportunity they'd had to go head to head since the first night. It has been decided that Friday evening Dueling Club would pit Ravenclaw versus Slytherin, or Gryffindor the following Friday, so that groups had a chance to rotate and test their mettle against new opponents.

Classes eventually finished, the Trio headed to their Common Room to finish up homework and have everything ready for morning, and they headed to the Great Hall for supper. There was a bit of yawning over their main course, but for the most part everything was fine.

Minerva glanced their way and felt a momentary twinge of compassion, saying, "They're tired already, poor things," expecting some sympathetic response from at least one of her neighbors, whether Pavel or Severus. She was met with the sounds of silence.

"I say..." she repeated a bit louder and more pointedly... "those children look tired."

This prompted Severus to glance in their direction a moment and say, "Yes. Yes, they do. Well spotted," before returning to slicing his roast beef.

"Well, don't you think 6:30 is a wee mite early for detention?" she asked, sounding more questioning than critical in tone.

"Yes. Yes, I do, Madame. In fact, that is one of its most attractive and effective features. The hour was not picked randomly. And just to remind you... they are not there alone. I... am also keeping these hours... and I... did NOT earn the detention!" Snape chuckled. "Would you kindly pass the horseradish sauce?"

"Pfft!" Minerva exclaimed, as she deposited the condiment with an audible _"Thud!"_ before him. "I notice the two of you are uncharacteristically quiet, this evening," she gave Paul and John a scathing sidelong look.

"I have little to contribute, kind lady," Paul chuckled. "I agree with you, they look tired. But this is early days. They're healthy, resilient, and clever. They'll adjust to an earlier sleep rhythm, or, if their attentiveness suffers, corrective action may be taken. But I'm willing to give them some room to sort it out."

"But 30 days... an hour before dawn..." she began, in a tone implying that it was unreasonable...

"Oh, Professor..." Severus interrupted, leaning back with a disgusted huff, "think about the offense, please. What would you have me assign as an appropriate punishment? Have them all come in and copy 200 lines of, _"I shall endeavor to never again steal, try to poison my best friends to death, nor turn them into Newts?"_

At this John could no longer contain his laughter, which was unfortunate as he was chewing on some beet salad in that moment. In a low voice he contributed, "Well, 'they'd get bet' er'." It amazed Paul to see how quickly John could cast a _"scourgify"_ spell.

It was not quite quick enough, however, as Minerva hissed to him, "Young man, any more of that and you may be excused from this table."

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry Auntie," he replied, focusing intently on cutting his meat.

Severus continued, "Paul, you taught at Durmstrang. Professor McGonagall implies that my punishment for this is too harsh. Would these delinquents have found such harsh punishment at Durmstrang? Am I being unreasonable? What would they have faced there?"

"Well, I can say their penalties would have been considerably more harsh," and Paul tried to let the topic die.

"Oh, you can't know that for sure, Paul!" Minerva objected.

John chimed in, "Yes. Yes he can, Auntie. No one would know better," and he smiled as Paul tried to ignore him.

This niggling thread of "non-disclosure" Severus could sense now in the conversation intrigued him. "And why is that, dear friend?" he prompted.

"You remember Papa mentioning earlier that he's been a Deputy Head?"

"Yes."

"Well, that was 9 of his 10 years at Durmstrang. And there, rather like American schools with their 'Assistant Principal' office, serious offenses were referred to him both for disposition and assignment of the punishment, and its administration. It wasn't his favorite role."

"Oh, my..." Minerva reflected. "Paul, I didn't know. I'm so sorry."

"No, no, dear lady. It gave me a rare opportunity there to 'temper justice with mercy' from time to time. To answer your question, Severus, these were serious offenses that would have left no room for discretion on the nature of the penalty. To steal restricted stores from a Professor, conspire to brew an unauthorized and potentially lethal potion in uncontrolled conditions? No question. They would have been caned. The principal actor would take 10 strokes, her accomplices 6. Considering their age they would have been administered with a Junior Cane rather than that used for teens. An other major difference between there and here is that 'deterrence' is a major goal of punishment, so administration was public, in the dining hall, generally just before the noon meal. Made for a somewhat chilling effect on misbehavior for a number of days thereafter."

"I can imagine..." Snape said, soberly.

"But what about 'credit for character', Paul? Like in this case, where they turned themselves in?" Minerva protested.

Paul smiled, "Well, that's where the 'tempered with mercy' part came in. It did not happen often, but there were times I had to punish a student for, say, 'Insubordination, disobedience to a senior classman', when the order he had refused was to bully a younger underclassman. There were some cadets, few and far between, but some, who simply refused to be dishonorable. They'd sooner take a beating than bully a victim. Nonetheless, the defiance of insubordination had some set penalties to it. I always insisted a student use a mouthpiece during punishment, and as I inserted this, I would warn them quietly to be sure they reacted properly to each stroke. I'd then lay on the strokes with a glamour that gave full cosmetic effect - the showers were communal, but they'd only experience taking a small fraction of the blow. They would receive just enough so there was some residual sting to remind them to react properly when they sat or moved around. It was never acknowledged or discussed, by me or by the student. It was just 'understood'.

"Karma," as you once pointed out, dear lady, "is indeed a funny thing. Several of those 'students of character' now occupy influential government posts in a variety of countries. I never have any serious difficulty obtaining agreements with those bureaucracies, when they see who is negotiating. We always just exchange the merest of nods, and they know how very proud of them I am.

"Anyway," and he seemed to shake himself from the reverie... "if you are seriously asking me if I think Severus' punishment here is unduly harsh? Um... no, dear lady. Not in the least. Not even close."

Severus gave a grunt of apparent self-satisfaction, while Minerva decided to withdraw from the field of debate with her dignity intact.

* * *

John picked up the conversation from here, describing his interview of Myrtle Warren.

Hermione walked with him after luncheon, and tried to give him some warning. "Um, Master Constantine? You need to be aware that Myrtle passed away here as a student, and hadn't had a lot of dating experience? She's known to be a bit... erm... flirtatious. So..."

"Ah," John said, "thank you for the warning. I think we'll be fine."

"OK, just didn't want you to be too... surprised if she's a bit... forward." John nodded, as they entered the lavatory of interest. "Myrtle? Myrtle, are you here? It's Hermione, Hermione Granger. I've brought someone to meet you. He's kind of a 'new boy' and he's asked if you would talk with him."

In only a few more seconds, the high pitched keen of Myrtle's voice came from the tiled wall above the toilets, as she zoomed in and hovered near the ceiling, looking at Hermione and John. "OOoooo, he's nice looking, Hermione. Do you have..." she started, swooshing down to hover directly in front of his face, "a girlfriend here yet?" Her eyelashes fluttered as she stared deeply into John's eyes. Hermione backed away a step or two, as she turned to cough into her fist. "What makes you want to talk to me? Nobody ever wants to talk to ugly, miserable, moping, moaning Myrtle!"

"Let me ask you something," John began, "Are you Myrtle Warren?"

"I was. Back before I was DEAD!"

"Actually, Myrtle," John interrupted. "That's not too much of a problem for me. Many of my best friends are dead," and so saying, John shocked Hermione to pieces as he simply transformed himself into a ghost. First he was just standing there, corporeal, talking right next to Hermione... and then, "Poof", he was floating there as a whitish mist, looking for all the world like any ectoplasmic ghost.

Myrtle squealed with delight as she reached out and "touched" John. She froze in stark amazement, finding that she COULD touch him and feel "resistance" back. "Oh... oh... oh!" she squeaked, as she grabbed his upper arms, then shoulders with her hands, squeezing the li... erm... squeezing them intently.

John decided it was time to speak, "Myrtle, I was wondering if you would show me where..."

And Myrtle, apparently paying no attention whatever to what he was saying, suddenly grabbed him by the hand and said, "Let me show you all my plumbing..." as she zoomed away, dragging him along in her wake. Together, they disappeared into the tiled wall.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
 **At this point, Pavel picked up the narrative:**

Hermione found herself standing alone in the Girl's Room with no idea what to do or how long to stay. Calling them had no effect. So, she decided to contact the Professor.

"Excuse me, sir?" she thought in her head, picturing him in her mind.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" was his instant reply.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, I know you're teaching, but erm... I'm not sure what I should do."

The Professor was indeed, in the middle of lecture, but had the class turn to a passage in their texts, and asked them to read that section before his return. He entered his office, closed the door, and asked Hermione what was wrong.

She described the situation, and in a moment or two Paul realized John had been kidnapped by a pubescent adolescent ghost that hadn't touched a boy in 50 years. Considering John's skill level as a Death Mage, Paul knew he was in no possible danger. At least not physically. His mental health might take some damage here, but he was safe.

"Thank you, Ms. Granger. I think John is, and will be, fine. He can reach us this same way if he needs our assistance. You may as well go on about your day, and we'll see what he discovers. Thank you for all your help."

At the close of the Professor's comments, all eyes rested on John, who focused with great intensity on his knife and fork.

"What?" he looked up. "Why are you all staring at me?"

"Well, what did she show you, ya scamp!" Minerva snapped.

"All of her plumbing, Auntie. Nothing else, I assure you," he laughed. "I don't have any answers yet, but I think she will be a great help in solving this thing."

* * *

After pudding it seemed the entire Great Hall adjourned to the Gymnasium as students formed their orderly queues behind their Heads of House. Support teacher/coaches ran drills away from the lanes demonstrating wand motion and positioning, and pairs began their duels.

Pavel noticed an intense look on Harry's face as his eyes never left Malfoy. The Professor made his way over to his ward, noticing the turtle necked shirt, and high guarding tunic collar just beneath. "Harry, I'm not probing or prying, but I can see your plans in your eyes. All I will say is... turn off your inner armor... and use acceptable spells here, only. If you feel yourself losing your self control, please walk away. All right? I don't want anybody hurt."

"Yes, Professor. Armor is off."

"Hey, tell you what, Harry," the Professor's voice took on a conspiratorial tone. "Care to try a game with all this?"

"What's that, sir?"

"When you duel Malfoy, do what you did to me. Soak him to knock him down, then immobilize, then disarm. He'll never see it coming. Then you can have the intense pleasure of standing over him and casting "Finite Incantatem"... How's that? No one can fault your sportsmanship at that. Just be sure he doesn't hit you in the process. And get your mouthpiece in."

Paul was very relieved to see Harry's face split open in a huge grin, as he accepted the challenge, saying... "And 10 points to Gryffindor if I can do all that before he reaches the center of the lane?"

"Perhaps... we'll see. Tell you what, do it in less than 5 seconds, and you'll have your points!"

"Done!" Harry replied, with the air of an auctioneer dropping a gavel.

When their turn came, trashtalking done at the start line, five paces counted off... Harry shifted low and right to drop his center of gravity and not be where Malfoy thought he was as he cast his spells "triple stroke"... _"Aqua Eructo"_ on a downstroke, _"Expelliarmus!"_ on a backhand upstroke, finishing with _"Petrificus Totalis"_ on a firm ending flourish. Malfoy went down with a bouncing thud like a tossed caber. Harry's wandwork looked like he was drawing designs in the air.

But what made Paul the proudest, was to see Harry immediately walk briskly to Malfoy, casually cast _"Scourgify"_ and _"Arido Profundo"_ on the way drying the dampness and cleaning the mess, then point his wand down at Draco saying, _"Finite Incantatem"_ , and offer his hand to help Malfoy up. He did all these things efficiently and without theatrics, so that when Malfoy slapped away Potter's hand, there was no mistaking the sportsmanship in that lane.

Harry walked back over to the waiting area, to practice til there was another go, and Paul mind-spoke to him, _"Well done. See what happened? You do everything the right way, use respect and courtesy, and when your opponent responds like a boor, he makes himself look foolish. You come out smelling like a rose, and nobody can say a word against you." Paul mentally smiled at him. "Sometimes, my son... 'Courtesy' can be a wondrous weapon."_

At 8:30, everyone headed to their dorms and beds, and the Trio were leading the pack for the stairs. _John mind-spoke to Harry, "Sleep well, little brother, and remember to turn your suit back on as you're going."_

 _Harry smiled as he answered, "Already done. You sleep tight. See you tomorrow!"_


	33. Swollen Knuckles

**Swollen Knuckles**

Getting up "in the middle of the night", in Ron's view was just as miserable on a Wednesday as a Tuesday. Still, they'd gotten just a little bit more sleep since they'd dropped off like rocks at 10 p.m., and they didn't have to allow for the extra time to transport the potion from the first floor into the dungeon laboratory this time. Harry and Ron grabbed their clothes and bolted for the showers, opting to use the magical ones, placing their school clothes in the proper bin outside the stall, stepping in disrobed, standing in the center of the platform, and having comfortable warm water first sprayed on them, then soap and lather followed that - as they lathered their hair or used their flannels to scrub anything necessary, then, when the flannel was put back on its rod, plain warm water would rinse them off completely. A moment more, and a small cyclone of warm air would shoot everywhere in the cubicle until they were dry, whereupon their clothing would be applied in proper layers, except that the necktie was never correctly knotted. Harry had wondered, putting the armor vest into the bin, whether it would be put on him under the shirt, and he was pleased to find that it was.

The boys would never have admitted it in a million years, but this earlier rising time made it possible for them to access these magical showers. Normally they were queued up by all the upperclassmen, and littles like they had to shower manually. They stepped out perfectly prepared for class, but to pick up and put away their pajamas, robe, slippers or whatever they had worn from the dorm. Their hair was left slightly damp to allow for combing, styling, whatever grooming suited them... a thought that had not yet occurred to the lads, preferring to _coif au natural_.

The boys met Hermione in their Common Room at 6:20 and together they headed to Professor Snape's dungeon classroom. He looked up as they walked in together, saying, "Good morning, Trio," which surprised them a bit as an unexpected courtesy.

"Good morning, sir," they responded. Harry noticed it was probably the first time he'd ever said those words to Professor Snape without the slight twinge of "smarmy" that normally tainted them.

"Gentlemen, your work is posted. Ms. Granger, with me..." as again he led the way through the open door of his laboratory. The boys could see them, sitting next to one another on high stools at the polished stone table. You could just hear their low voices conversing, as they examined Hermione's lab notes together, and you could see her hands describing the actions she was going to take next with the potions. In a few moments, he nodded approvingly - apparent approbation of her recitation - and rose to return to his desk where he seemed to have an endless supply of parchment to correct.

As the Professor approached the door into the classroom, he observed the boys watching him and Granger intently. "Gentlemen..." he began, in that voice that could make their skin crawl... "you are supposed to be attending to your own work. Now, if for some reason, you find this laboratory far more captivating to your interest, I'm sure I can find some ingredients for you to prepare, or some cleaning to be done in here..."

"No, sir..." "Sorry, sir..." were their hasty replies, as books flew open and quills pulled to hand. Snape suppressed a slight smile as he steeled himself and sat to be immersed in dreadful grammar and even worse penmanship.

Eleven minutes later he got to take a momentary break as Hermione called him back to the lab. She asked an extremely intelligent question, and as she compared the two potions in their development 5 days apart, she deduced the effects of two of the ingredients added in the interim. There was change not only of color and texture, but of aroma and density. It was the interaction of the two that brought this about, and the text never really succeeded in either describing nor explaining the change. Snape was as aware as any other Hogwarts professor of how bright Hermione was, but this insight on her part truly surprised him. This went beyond mere "cleverness" into real expression analytical understanding. He may have to attend more closely to her alchemical education when this project finished.

He reviewed her notes, inspected her potions, drew his line and initialed it in her notebook. Then he said, "I am very tempted to award you 5 house points for what you've discovered this morning. Were this not a punitive exercise, I believe I would."

She flushed at the praise, but stung with the reminder that this was punishment. "Professor? You've not yet assigned the house points I've lost... Perhaps this..."

At this, Severus sat back on his stool a bit and drew a deep breath. He looked up at the ceiling a moment, and came to a decision. "Ms. Granger, you have just done it again, and I want to grasp this as what is called a 'teachable moment'." His voice was sober and serious, but not angry or snide.

"I want to say some things to you that may hurt your feelings, and you may want to take them to heart and grieve them. Perhaps weep. _But hear me here: Don't do that!_ I want you to simply receive these words as _'information'_. I want to teach you a new thing that perhaps you've not considered before, and then process these words with your brilliant mind, analyze them clinically, and perhaps construct a new paradigm.

"Do you understand me? Can you do that?"

She looked a bit confused and very concerned. "I'm not sure. I can try, sir."

"That will do. Just... understand... this is NOT a 'reprimand'. I am not saying hurtful words to cause hurt. I'm trying to give you information, data with which to calculate a new approach... Understood?"

"Yes, sir. I understand that."

"All right. What you have just done again, in suggesting that I have 'forgotten' to dun your house points, and that I could 'correct my error' in recalibrating with granted points... is that you have 'judged me'... again. You are here, Ms. Granger, suffering this punishment, to learn 'humility'. You are engaged in this exercise because of your arrogance, your innate belief that if my judgment, or that of any of the authorities over you, disagrees with your own... that yours prevails because... deep in your heart of hearts... you believe you are smarter than all of us, that you know better than all of us, and your wisdom is superior to all of us. You have placed yourself, in your heart, on a 'superior plane' on 'higher ground' that gives you better vision of reality than we have.

Severus could see the emotion welling in her brows and behind her eyes. "Please try not to do that, Ms. Granger. I am NOT angry with you, or saying these words to hurt. I am simply telling you that at this precise moment, this is the case. This is the state of affairs as they exist. Do you understand?

"Yes, sir," she replied, struggling to contain her emotions.

"Now, there is GOOD news here, Ms. Granger. You are a 12 year old student, who mistakenly believes she is wiser and more capable of making decisions than the people charged with her care. You believe that because you are incredibly capable, smart, dedicated, and gifted. That's _true_. Along with that, you are headstrong, and subject to arrogance. You lack true humility.

"And please don't mistake 'true humility' for 'false inferiority'. Humility is not to believe that you are not gifted, when that is clearly the case. That would be a lie. Humility is to accept the possibility that others are gifted as well... perhaps even more competent.

"The reason I am taking this 'teachable moment' is that you 'judged me' just moments ago. You thought something like, 'Snape's forgotten that he didn't dun the points. I can offer him a 'solution' to his absent-mindedness.' I realize there was no selfish motive there. You just 'reacted' automatically to what you see happening all around you... someone missed a beat, and you will make up for the lack with your superior ability.

"Don't wince at those words, Ms. Granger. They're not meant as blows. You are not the only person ever to go through this. That is entirely my point! We've ALL been through it. Most of the people you are now 'contending' with, are as gifted and talented as you are, in a variety of ways. We, too, have been arrogant and superior. We, too, have placed colleagues at risk without justification in our certainty that 'we were right, and the other wrong.' I am not telling you a single painful thing about yourself, that has not been brought to my attention about me, in my turn. Unfortunately," his voice drifted into memory for a moment, "that was much later in my life than this is happening in yours.

"So..." his voice took on a resolute tone as though the conversation were beginning all over again, "are you ready for the Good News here, Ms. Granger?" and he almost sounded "cheerful" as he said it.

"Yes, sir?" as her curiosity and character were piqued and brought to the fore.

"You, little miss, are being 'trained', not merely 'taught'. You will learn humility and you will rid yourself of arrogance, not only because you 'want' to, which I know you do, but because you're simply going to be left with no choice. The only way you could fail, would be to quit. And you are FAR too stubborn and headstrong than to quit and admit defeat.

"There is a vast difference, Ms. Granger, between 'ego-ism' and 'ego-tism'. The one believes that their view is right and proper, because they are dedicated to doing only that which is right. When convinced that something is wrong, they will change their view, correcting their understanding. The _egotist_ , on the other hand, believes that they are right because that is their view. If someone else disagrees, that other person has to be, perforce, wrong. If information presents itself that their view is incorrect, they do not adjust their view, they deny the evidence.

"You are not being given that choice, Ms. Granger. I did not 'overlook' dunning your house points, that was a decision I have made by intention. Neither you, nor any other 12 year old student, have the right to judge my decision, or correct my error on that. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. I'm so sorry..."

"I know, Ms. Granger. But I truly do not want your sorrow, nearly as much as I sincerely want you to simply apply that gifted brilliant mind to all that's been said here... and 'reconfigure' your approach to authority and worldview. All right?"

She smiled a bit wanly, "All right, Professor. I'll do my best."

"And that should be very good indeed! You are dismissed!" and he turned abruptly away, walking back to his desk. For a brief moment as he sat, he thought back to the painful conversations on this that he had sat through with Headmaster Dumbledore when first he came here as faculty. It was his arrogance, his headstrong certainty that if he was right and you disagreed with him you were wrong, that had led him down the dreadful path to his Dark Mark. It wasn't until Lily's death that his worldview, his innate certainty of omniscience and infallibility, was shaken deeply enough that he could begin to learn actual wisdom.

There was no way around the pain of separation with one's own deific omniscience. Humility came with pain. But how great a gift would it be, to acquire that gift at such a young age that one's omniscience had not yet hurt or killed anyone else? Albus, like he, had learned this lesson the hard way. They were determined to help the Trio learn, before it cost anyone their life.

 _He pondered releasing the boys early, wondering if Hermione needed the comfort of their presence. "No," he realized. "Not yet." First she would need some time alone, sorting out the thoughts, the words, the ideas, the conflicting feelings... Breakfast would be time enough. The boys only had 10 minutes more, and then she could appear at the Great Hall when she was ready for them._

* * *

Their day of classes flowed by smoothly, bringing Harry to his 3:00 appointment with Mr. Filch. He knew his detention was costing him his "free time flying", for which he'd gotten standing permission. Still, he wasn't resentful. If anything, he felt a little bit "grown up". He had earned the detention, he felt a satisfaction to performing it.

He reported to Mr. Filch's office with courteous greeting, only to have Filch look up from his file at him, hand him the timer, and wave him away towards the spiral stairs with a brusque, "Carry on, Potter."

"Yes, sir," he said, heading downstairs to continue lubricating valves.

It was only a short time later that Harry heard Mr. Filch shuffling through the dungeon calling his name, "Potter! Yo! Potter!" Harry dismounted his ladder and approached Mr. Filch. He was handed a different bucket, with mop and other tools and supplies as he was told, "Take this up to the 2nd Floor Girl's Room... the one with that dratted ghost in it that Peeves torments so much... and deal with a small flood. There may be an actual leak, if so tell me. But I suspect it's just a temper tantrum from one or the other of those two. Mop the floor up and see if there's a problem, then return here promptly. I'll carry on while you're away and keep your timer running."

"Yes, sir," Potter answered, as he set off briskly to do the task.

"Strange boy..." Filch mused, never having had a detention student apply any sort of energy to his punishment before.

Harry got to the lavatory, finding the tile floor slightly awash with clear clean water. _"Thank goodness, no one actually_ uses _these toilets," he thought._ There was a drain in the center of the room's floor, and a slight downward grade to it. His tools included a "squeegee" that allowed him to just "walk" most of the water to the drain and beyond. In a very short time he had all the flooding dealt with, and was able to mop the water from the toilet in the cubicle. As he squeezed the mophead into the bucket with the handle of the mop press, the water disappeared as it hit the bottom of the bucket. Finally he walked over to pick up a black leather book, still a bit damp, that had been sitting in the middle of the puddle.

Flipping through it casually it appeared completely blank, so he just put it in a pocket to give to Mr. Filch, and, assembling his tools, returned to the dungeons promptly. He put the bucket and tools down in their cubbyhole at the bottom of the spiral stairs, and silently made his way to where he could hear Mr. Filch working on the valves. He stopped a moment at the entrance, just watching the old man work... and listening as he talked to himself. He began to suspect why Mr. Filch was normally never without Mrs. Norris, his companion cat.

As he worked, he kept up a running commentary. "Blasted valves... grease picks up every random passing speck of crud. So close to the ceiling... _ack!"_ he expostulated, as he snatched his hand from the gap, taking a moment to rub his fingers and knuckles together, clearly in pain. Harry recalled that he'd said it was easier for Harry's small hands to do this task than for his, but Harry hadn't been paying a lot of attention at the time. It seemed a strange thought to Harry... this _hurt_ Mr. Filch.

Harry realized being "caught" this way might embarrass Mr. Filch, so he backtracked a few meters and made some clear scuffling sounds, calling out... "Mr. Filch? I'm back, sir! There didn't seem to be any leak, just some splashing from one of the toilets. I took care of it."

"Good lad," Filch said, the words out his mouth before he had time to think or recall them. He came down the ladder and decided to compensate with some additional gruffness... "Well you just climb back up there and get back to your work! You've had enough of a break. No slacking off, now!"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Filch. I'll get right on these..." Harry tried to look cowed, as Mr. Filch left the chamber, still rubbing his hands together trying to comfort his afflicted joints. It started Harry thinking, as he redoubled his efforts to try to get through as many valves, perfectly, as he could before the bell freed him from his duty. Were it not for the study hall scheduled in the next hour, he'd have hung back a bit to do a few more. _But in his mind there was the beginning of a plan..._

Harry arrived a couple minutes late to Study Hall, but Pavel nodded as he came in, knowing he'd just finished his detention and it took a moment or two to wash up and get his materials. Harry opened his books, pulled out some parchment, grasped his quill, and closed his eyes to look as though he was thinking - which he was, just not about his schoolwork. Instead he sent his mind out questing for his brother.

 _"John?" he mind spoke, gently._

 _"Yes, Harry. What's going on?" came the cheery response._

 _"You busy?"_

 _"Not really, no. I'm just making sure all munchkins have headed in from free-flight time, and checking the boundary wards, keeping an eye on the ground-pounders before everyone heads in for supper. What about you? You in trouble?" and Harry could hear the little laugh behind the question._

 _"Nope, not yet," he answered with an equal giggle. "But speaking of that... I wondered if I could ask an 'hypothetical question'?"_

 _"Oh, my," John responded, just a bit more soberly. "So we're there, are we? Well, let me come down and land so I can focus on you with proper attention. Give me a second. I'll get right back with you."_

Harry opened his eyes, turned to an appropriate chapter of his Charms text, and began his write up for comparison and contrast of the spells _"Wingardium Leviosa", "Levicorpus", "Volate Ascendere", and "Locomotor"_. He would have to pay some attention to the essay, since, while Professor Flitwick allowed for edits and additions at the bottom of a page using asterisks if some detail had been forgotten in the body of the text, Professor Konstantyn did not. And Professor Konstantyn checked over his homework in Charms and Transfiguration. For him, these were "critical skills" - combat skills - on which Harry's safety could depend at any time, while Divination, Dark Arts, Arithmancy, and even Potions, he would leave to the class professor. When Harry whined about having to rewrite an entire parchment the other night, because he had left out critical information that he tried to "arrow" back in... he was informed that when he figured out how to "footnote" a critical omission from a spell miscast in a duel, he'd be permitted to use asterisks in homework on combat skills.

Later in the evening of this "argument", in the Konstantyn quarters, John had sneaked off to spend some time with Harry and show him some "tricks" about hedging your space and handwriting size on parchment. There were ways to jockey your margins and the space between lines and paragraphs, that could allow for minor editing and corrections, without having to rewrite an entire page. The other important thing he recommended, of course, was to double check with your sources that you had all the relevant information down, before beginning a new topic and paragraph. But that went without saying.

 _John was apparently ready for discussion, and returned, "OK, Little Brother, what's on your mind?"_

 _"Well, I'd like to do a 'good deed', but secretly. Like... a 'random act of kindness', but without anybody knowing who did it."_

 _"OK, so far so good. What's the problem?"_

 _"Well, to do it, I'd have to go somewhere 'unauthorized' and 'unsupervised', or at least go at a time when I'm not authorized. If I got caught, I'd be in trouble. And I just wanted to know how much trouble I would be in?"_

 _"Ah, well, that would depend. Is the place dangerous at all, is there 'risk to you' involved? Or risk to anyone else?"_

 _"No, it's a maintenance area I've been working in without direct supervision anyway. Perfectly safe, just kinda nasty. But it's 'inside' Mr. Filch's dungeons, and students aren't allowed there except for detention chores."_

 _"OK, so what do you want to do, and why?"_

 _"The job I'm working on is lubricating some valves. And it's easy for me to do it, because my hands are small and I can handle them easily. But I won't be completely finished by the end of Friday. It would take me about two more hours to finish all of them. Doing them hurts Mr. Filch's hands. His fingers are all gnarly and swollen, and it's really hard for him to reach into those spaces. I want to sneak in there tonight or tomorrow night, and spend the time that I'll be able to have all of them done by Friday."_

 _"I see." John smiled. "Well, do you feel certain you could get in there without being caught?"_

 _"Yes, I'm sure of that. But it's still possible, if he went down there sometime when I was doing the work, that he'd catch me. I'm not sure what he'd do, but if he turned me in, it could be... um... awkward."_

 _"Well, Harry, if you are asking me what Papa would do if you're caught and he's officially informed... the answer is, 'I don't know.' I can never tell you, for sure, what he'll rule on anything. BUT, I can tell you that there's a lot more 'right things' in a hearing on that, than 'wrong things', and unless somebody in the loop insisted on harsh justice for the 'unauthorized entry', I doubt if the consequences would be burdensome. Any time, and every time, you break rules, you run the risk of punishment. The question becomes, for you, is the gift you want to give him, worth the risk? Do you want my recommendation on this?"_

 _"Yes, please."_

 _"Talk to Papa. Have this same 'hypothetical' conversation. He will 'clarify' the risks for you, and either help you plan the caper more securely, or make it clear if he has safety objections. You'll at least have a pretty good idea of what will happen if you're caught, and if you don't deviate from the plan you've given him, he won't be the least bit mad about it, even if you do get in trouble."_

 _"Really?" Harry found it hard to imagine 'telling on himself' before breaking rules._

 _"Really. But I'll say this, if you are caught out, and it gets to him for 'official correction', you'll have to deal with his official correction. A hypothetical crime does not receive automatic amnesty. That's a whole different matter. There would still be risk. You understand this?"_

 _"Yes. I get it."_

 _"OK, Harry, then I suggest you take this time, if Papa isn't busy helping another student there, and have this same conversation with him right now. Let me know how it all works out, OK? And if you need my help, you only have to ask. Perhaps a 'distraction' for the good Mr. Filch while you're about your work, eh?"_

 _"Oh, John. That would be SUPER! Would you do that for me?"_

 _"Of course! That's what colleagues are for. And, reducing the risk of your being caught will improve your chances of getting this plan past Papa anyway. Of course," John laughed, "he may point out that it simply increases the risk that the TWO of us, get caught... but hopefully, he won't think of that."_

 _Harry nearly laughed out loud as John shared this last thought, and he broke the connection to think for a bit._

Deciding to put a little serious effort into his homework, Harry spent the next 15 minutes concentrating intently on completing his Charms essay. Careful to get all his references and details into the right paragraphs, he got 3/4 of the way through the assignment, before deciding he could take a break and try out his first "hypothetical" on the Professor. The elderly man was pacing quietly along the aisleways, responding to questions asked by students now and again, or clearing his throat judiciously when chatting became noticeable or loud. Students liked his help on their work, because he never made them feel foolish or stupid for asking about something they didn't understand. He never really _answered_ a question straight out though. He'd ask one, instead, and then prompt them to see a connection to what they were working on. He loved what he called _"seeing the light go on in their eyes"_ when they made the connection and understood a new thing.

Noticing the Professor unoccupied for a moment, Harry raised his hand for assistance, and the Professor came over. Pushing his textbook over towards the Professor, and shoving a chair with his foot in invitation to sit, as though he needed help with some passage, Harry said, "Sir, I'd like to have a 'little chat' about an 'hypothetical situation' with you, if you've the time."

Catching both code phrases, Pavel raised an eyebrow, and accepted the offered chair and book. "Would you now, Mr. Potter? I should be delighted to help," and as he sat, his finger twitched a privacy charm over them, such that others would hear them "talking", but be unable to identify the words being said. "Let me ask you first, young sir, whether this discussion is in aid of 'damage control', or of 'risk assessment'?"

"I'm not sure," Harry laughed. "Would you clarify the difference between the two?"

"Happily. You engage in a hypothetical discussion of 'damage control' when a questionable deed has _already been done_ , and you are exploring or attempting to mitigate potential consequences. 'Risk assessment' on the other hand, is performed _BEFORE engaging in the deed_ , to see what risks exist and how to minimize them."

"I see. Well, I'm pleased to report, this is 'risk assessment'."

"Good, I'm pleased to hear it. Now, carry on..."

Harry then laid out what he wanted to do, including John's cooperation, omitting only the reason he wanted to do this. That confused the professor, who of course asked 'why?'. Harry wasn't really sure why he didn't want to admit his reasons. It kind of embarrassed him to admit he felt sorry for Mr. Filch and just wanted to do something nice for him, particularly something like this that spared him pain and that Harry could do so easily. He clarified to the extent of calling it a 'random act of kindness', and asking if they could leave it at that.

Pavel didn't want to pry, he could feel that this had a surprising degree of significance to the lad. Without probing, he could sense that Harry's reluctance was not based on mischief or greed, but rather... 'modesty'. He thought about this a moment, then asked, "Harry, is John aware of what you want to do, and why, more specifically than this? And if so, is he comfortable with it?"

Harry nodded energetically, relieved that it seemed the Professor might let this slide. "All right," Pavel continued, "then tell me about the risks you know of being involved, and how you plan to execute and escape if your situation becomes compromised."

They then discussed "operational details", like precise scheduling, and John providing distraction both for Harry's insertion into the location, and his withdrawal before curfew. Pavel mentioned that he knew Harry had some means of concealing himself when traveling the corridors, though he admitted he still did not know what that means was. He recommended that Harry use that, even if it meant revealing his secret to John, who would not betray it if he asked. Further, he suggested Harry attend to the noise he made when walking concealed. Some variation on a muffling charm, to deal with the squeak of his trainers, the friction hum of his trouserlegs in jeans, and his own breathing. Harry could move very quietly for the average 12 year old... but not nearly quietly enough yet to be at all truly "stealthy". Harry looked so surprised at his mini-lecture it made Pavel laugh as he said, "Oh, young sir, you've no idea. We'll be working on that in due course."

Pavel pushed the book back towards Harry saying, "I believe that covers most everything, sir. I shall feel compelled to discipline only a 'note sent home' by your Head of House or the Headmaster, and if you adhere to your current plan and your motives are as reported, I see nothing to stand 'hypothetically' in your way. Tonight is our 'practical training' night, that we would usually spend in my classroom dueling or casting. I suggest, rather, that you and Master Constantine engage in some 'night maneuvers' involving subterfuge and stealth. _Just don't get caught!_ " and he smiled as he removed their privacy charm. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry grinned happily. "Very clear, sir."

"Good..." and Pavel walked away, shaking his head.

Immediately after supper, John sought out Mr. Filch asking if he could spare a few moments. Filch, unaccustomed to being asked for assistance by faculty, was more than happy to help. John then explained, leading the Caretaker away from his office and heading towards the 2nd floor Girl's room while Harry - wearing his Invisibility Cloak and charmed for near soundlessness - sneaked into Filch's office and down the spiral staircase to begin his work.

"I was investigating some ghostly doings around here yesterday, sir," John addressed Mr. Filch, "and I noticed some irregularities in the pipes behind these walls. I wondered if you might like a hand in addressing this..." John then walked to the end of the row of toilets, placed his hands on the tile walls, spoke to the stones of Hogwarts beneath the tiles, and opened a doorway that became a corridor behind all the pipes and plumbing.

Mr. Filch just stood there, mouth agape, raised a finger pointing at the pipes, saying... "How... how...?"

"Oh, well, sir. That's kind of some of the magic I do. But anyway, I noticed these bulges and damaged bits here, and thought perhaps, with your direction and instruction... showing me what was wrong and what needed to be fixed... well..." and John pointed his wand at a distended pipe, washing it in a bright orange glow, and watched it deconstruct and reform looking brand new. "Now, I don't know anything about plumbing, Mr. Filch, so I wouldn't feel comfortable trying this if you weren't here to direct me... but if you have some spare time, I could take you where I saw things that made me wonder, and we could set them right. That is, if you're not busy with anything else at the moment."

Mr. Filch discovered that he wasn't busy with a darned thing at the moment. And John got an earful about the Weasley twins and their pyrotechnics down the toilets, and dung bombs, and stink bombs, and a variety of plumbing-hazardous pranks they were prone to. John just patiently walked Mr. Filch to every spot the old Caretaker knew they had wear and difficulty of access. He'd never had a wizard offer to do anything like this for him before. He wondered why he'd never thought to ask, as John just made passageways for easy access, then closed them up again when finished.

As they passed 8:30 John said, "Well, sir. It's getting near curfew, so I guess I should be going. If you ever want some help like this, feel free to let me know. You have all the knowledge and skill, but I can provide the heavy lifting if you'd like."

"Now, you see?" Mr. Filch said, as they walked down the hallway back towards his office, _and John signaled Harry that it was time for him to vacate._ "You see, you're are a fine, polite young wizard. Not like these delinquents I have to deal with these days. You're Professor Konstantyn's boy, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, I am," John had to smile as he looked down.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir. Pardon me. I didn't mean to be familiar. You're faculty, too, Master Constantine," and Mr. Filch was sincerely flustered having addressed a wizard, faculty, so... "impolitely"... in his opinion.

"Nonsense, Mr. Filch!" John clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "I'm proud to be called 'Professor Konstantyn's boy', and please address me as simply 'John' if there are no students about. I've learned a great deal from you this evening," which was a very true statement, as he'd been treated to the "criminal profile" of every potential troublemaker in the school.

"Well, thank you for that... John. I just meant that 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree', and seeing that your father doesn't brook any nonsense from these children, I'm sure that YOU never tormented your school caretaker with firecrackers and stinkbombs where you were a boy!"

"No, sir. Certainly not! Now thanks again, and please have a good evening," John saluted him, as he left the Caretaker's office, knowing Harry was already back at the Konstantyn home. Of course, John saw no reason to confide in Mr. Filch that he HAD been caught pulling some pranks vastly worse than simple fireworks down the plumbing, or that he had moved his father to heretofore unexplored realms of correction in the process. How else would he know what it was like to be Jesuit grounded, at school, for a month at a time?

John "blinked" to their apartments to be met by an ecstatic Harry, who immediately pounced upon him with a "high five".

Pavel sat quietly reading his favorite book, in his favorite chair near the fireplace, drinking his favorite tea, doing a very good imitation of "the disinterested father who hasn't noticed the boys are home yet".

Turning their way, he put down his book and said, "did your evening's practice go well?"

John cut in, catching Harry's eye with a shake of the head, to say, "Perfect, Papa. Harry will learn to move stealthily... someday... maybe," and left it at that. Harry looked confused, and perhaps a bit disappointed, as he'd wanted to tell the Professor all about it. But John motioned him into Harry's room, and charmed the door for silence.

"No, Harry," he laughed. "Once you've executed a 'hypothetical' that Papa's helped with, you never ever admit to it, or discuss it unless he inquires directly. We are preserving his 'plausible deniability'. Should anyone, in the next few days, discover the adventure and ask him about it, he can honestly say we told him nothing of it tonight. Later, he may ask about things directly, then it's fine to discuss it. You understand? We would only discuss this operation if something had gone wrong and we needed him to cover for us. That's why he asked what he did."

"Oh, I see... " Harry said, nodding and smiling. "I get it. Gosh... you guys are so sneaky. You make us kids look innocent by comparison."

"Oh, my beloved Little Brother, you have no idea! Now, you better head home. Curfew is coming."

" _May_ I ask you just one more thing, since we've got a private moment here?"

John laughed to hear Harry use the proper form of the question... "Yes you _MAY_ , since you ask so nicely. What's that?"

Even with the charm on the door, Harry dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Did you say you always kept your own paddle? That you took care of it?"

"Yes..." John kept his expression perfectly neutral.

"Do you still have it?"

"Yes, sure."

"May I see it? I'm... curious."

"Sure thing," John kept his voice totally relaxed as he summoned it into his hand. As it appeared, it was more substantial, more like a fraternity paddle. But stroking it with his palm, it became just as John had described: thin, 10 x 4 rectangular surface, a few inches for handle, and it was incredibly smooth and rounded at every edge. John commented as he handed it to Harry, "the contours need to be smooth and rounded, so there's no hard edges. That's where lines tend to form."

Harry handled it, hefted it in his hand... seemed lighter than a ping pong paddle. "Wouldn't think this thing would even hurt..." he said, noncommittally.

"Yup, wouldn't think so, but it can," John laughed. "That's what I made for myself at your size. As I got bigger, I added here and there. That's what you saw when I summoned it."

Harry handed it back. "OK, thanks, John. I was just curious."

"No problem, Little Brother. Anytime, and now... you'd best go. If you're late we'll BOTH hear about it!"

"Right, and thanks for everything," and Harry hung a huge hug around his neck, as he headed out the door.

"G'Night, Professor!"

"Night Harry, finish up that homework, then off to bed with you... _Begone waif!_ " as he laughed and waved, watching Harry disappear though "his door".

John stepped over to the fireplace, sat down near his father, and put his little paddle down on the table in front of them.

Pavel looked at it, laughed, and said, "What in the world are you doing with THAT!?"

"Harry asked to see it just now."

"REALLY!?" Pavel sat back with a look of sheer astonishment. "John, I can't believe the progress you are making. Who'd have believed it? Well, then... here..." Pavel reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out the little twig of holly he had acquired from Mr. Ollivander in Diagon Alley. "Here is 'Harry's Matchstick' should he ask you for it. It is from the same limb as his wand, and will resonate with his magical core. Keep his secrets and confidences if he asks you to, as long as it's not a safety matter. Mother and I had similar understandings about you and your confidences. Just know how proud I am of the both of you. Amazing!"

 _Pavel returned to his reading as John rose to pour some tea and get a book for himself. This had been a very productive night._


	34. Wheels Within Wheels

**Wheels Within Wheels**

The boys would sooner clean slimy cauldrons than ever admit it, but... it was getting much easier to get going in the morning. They fell asleep like they'd been bludgeoned when they crawled between the sheets, and they found themselves waking just a few minutes before their alarm went off... wondering if their alarm was about to go off. They would race, trying not to giggle or make noise, to get to the showers in the morning, and found themselves more or less cheerful when they met Hermione in the Common Room.

Hermione entered the lab with Professor Snape, while Harry and Ron took their seats and worked on their assignments. Harry had worked ahead so that, with the head start he had, he finished the assigned work in the first 10 minutes. He was still in "conspiracy mode" pondering Mr. Filch, and wanted to consult with Professor Snape as a colleague. Completed work packed away in his bag, Harry had moved forward in his Potions text to the chapter on "Healing and Pain Potions", reading on what could be applied topically for long-lasting relief.

Professor Snape, walking to his desk, seemed to have that professional pedagogic radar that alerted him when any student was failing to perform their assigned work. "Mr. Potter, that is NOT the work I have assigned you. If you are bored, or too distracted to be bothered with what is on the board, I'm sure I can find something to occupy your time."

"Thank you, sir. But I completed that already, and I'd like to ask a question if that's ok."

"What's that, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, actually, sir, I'd like to ask you an hypothetical question."

It took all of Snape's self control to keep from rolling his eyes right there in front of both boys, as he stopped dead in his tracks. "You've been spending time with your brother, John, have you not?"

"Yes, sir. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing, Mr. Potter. Just carry on. What would you like to know?"

"Well, let's suppose somebody wanted to brew something that could be added to... like, a gel... or a tub of liquid soap or grease cutter... just a little bit, so that when somebody with sore and swollen knuckles used the soap or gel, the potion could help them relieve pain and the swelling?"

Severus smiled. He'd really need to work with these children sometime in the future about "obfuscation", at least if they were going to keep trying to float "hypotheticals". But anyway, "Well, Mr. Potter, that would depend on a few things. Do you know the specific person this would be for?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know their approximate height, weight, size, and general health condition?"

"I think so, or I could find that out."

"Now, Mr. Potter, this might be a bit trickier. If you're going to apply 'medication' to someone, especially on a regular basis... even clandestinely... you must know if they are allergic or sensitive to that medicine, or if they are taking anything else that might cause unhealthy side effects."

Ron sat at his desk, overhearing all of this, and finally gave up completely on his assignments just to stare at the two of them. He had no earthly idea what was going on.

Professor Snape noticed, asking, "is this a scheme you are involved in, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron's blank look affirmed his answer, "No, sir. I've no idea what he's talking about."

"Then I suggest you return to your work, unless you need for me to find you some more?"

Ron began scribbling furiously.

Harry had been thinking about the Professor's question, and answered, "Well, I might be able to find out what medicines he has, or what he gets from Madame Pomfrey. I know he goes by the Infirmary every day," as Harry had noticed Filch's daily visits to Mrs. Norris. "But as far as his medical background, I don't know..."

"Perhaps, Mr. Potter, if you think more in a 'teamwork paradigm', a solution could present itself."

"Oh..." Harry paused and pondered, "like perhaps one of you guys, one of the adults, could figure that out?"

"Indeed," Snape articulated dryly, "one of 'us guys'."

"Sorry, sir. No disrespect intended."

"Of course not. So, my recommendation would be to use your investigative skills to determine what, if any, pain relief Mr. Filch is currently using, and then we can explore 'variations on a theme' to see about making a tonic to bolster his hand cleansers or whatever. If we base our booster on what he may already be using, the chances of this adventure being exposed are reduced significantly."

Harry looked flustered and nervous, "Mr. Filch, sir? I never said anything about Mr. Filch."

"O, please... You are an interrogator's dream, Mr. Potter. Remind me to speak with you one day about 'subtlety' and 'misdirection'. At the moment, just pray you are never captured by an enemy with a lick of sense. Now, for the moment, go ahead and read through the chapters on analgesics and transport mechanisms, familiarizing yourself with the most common pain relievers, and 'us guys' will explore how to acquire more sensitive information perhaps unavailable to you. Agreed?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you very much."

 _"I live but to serve, sir,_ " Snape smiled, his voice dripping with comic irony, as Hermione called him back to the lab to check her work. Twenty minutes later, the boys joined her for breakfast in the Great Hall.

* * *

Thursday was everybody's "heavy" day, with Slytherin/Gryffindor attending Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and History of Magic from 9 to 5 with only a lunch and study hall break somewhere in the process. Some Thursdays were double session, allowing for both lecture and lab for Potions, or theory and practice for Charms or Transfiguration. It was a grueling day for everyone but John.

The children had evolved a routine of heading to "Harry's House", alias the Konstantyn Suite, for tea and homework on heavy study days, like these.

The Professor would sit grading papers in his Study, a comfortable room a bit smaller than a bedroom off the living area, where he kept a number of his own "restricted section" magical tomes, his secured work files of criminal activity or court proceedings, and a number of artifacts too powerful to leave randomly lying around. He had large desk and very comfortable chair there where he worked, along with a couple side chairs for guests. Here he would grade papers and maintain his grading sheets, or conduct correspondence which was far heavier than the children knew.

Throughout his career, Pavel had maintained a "study" at home where he could think and deal with things in a more "formal" and "professional" mindset, while the kitchen, living room, or dining room were more "informal" and "family" oriented. Sometimes, not often but sometimes, he would take a break and call John in for a game of chess at his desk. But usually, games were reserved for the "family areas". Here, the Study, was the formal location for any "little chat" that had to be undertaken. Here, Papa was far more "Father", in the formal sense, than "Papa" in the diminutive. No child was ever allowed in here alone. There were far too many dangerous things, and they simply had no business here. When the Konstantyns first set up their quarters and introduced the children to them, the Study was simply a closed door that they were told to leave alone.

So, as household rhythms evolved, Pavel chose to bring his work home to his study on Thursdays after class, and try to finish up there for the week, while the children did their homework either in Harry's room or at the dining table with their tea. They would all go to dinner, and if work was finished, they'd enjoy games or just relax until it was time to return to the dorm. Sometimes Pavel would join in a game, or other times he would just relax with a good book near the fireplace enjoying their - usually - quiet company. If things got too rowdy for his tastes, especially if John stirred things up, he would just laugh and banish them to Harry's room, or retire to his own bedroom to relax.

Harry had taken to such homespun routines like a duck to water. He could not have told you how really, but it made him feel "safe", like being wrapped in a soft warm blanket on a cold night. Hermione and Ron appreciated the feel of Harry's House, just as any child would. But for Harry, it was a wholly different thing. He'd felt Hogwarts was his home from the first day he set foot here, but this... this was entirely different. Paul could "feel" the difference in the child, and knew it would take much longer yet for him to know true "security", but this was a fine beginning, indeed.

But right now, given the consistency of expectations and Pavel's habit of ritual and attention to detail, Harry had a problem. In fact, he was afraid he may have a very serious problem. He was fretting about it finishing up his homework that Thursday evening before they went to the Great Hall for supper, and finally decided, about 5:30, that he couldn't stand it anymore. He, Ron, and Hermione were getting their work finished at the dining table, John was sitting near the fireplace reading, and the Professor was in his Study finishing up his own work.

Harry got up, refilled his cocoa, and walked over to John.

"I need your help. I think I'm in trouble. Or, if I'm not yet, I think I'm fixing to be," Harry began.

It didn't take a mind mage to sense that Harry was anxious. John put his book down, cast a quick privacy charm, and sat down on a couch motioning Harry to join him. "OK, Squirt. Tell me what's the matter?"

"Well, I haven't lied, exactly..."

 _John inwardly sighed. That was never a good beginning..._ "OK. So tell me..."

"Well, I've got this Dark Arts class with Professor Lockhart, right?"

"Yes."

"And John, he doesn't know diddley-spit! He's a complete waste of space. He's a fraud. He can't win a 'battle' with a Cornish Pixie, WE had to fix that for him. He talks about nothing but himself and his 'adventures', and Hermione's even caught him out claiming to have done things in countries he puts on the wrong _CONTINENTS!_ It kills me even to SIT in there for an hour, watching him flash his 'award-winning smile'."

"Uh, huh. Um, Harry, if you wind up having this discussion with Papa, I strongly urge you to express your feelings in more respectful language. It's fine talking with me... but I really hope you understand, that ALONE would earn you some 'attitude adjustment', Papa would call it."

"Yes," Harry laughed. "I know you're right, and I'll do my best... but really, that's sort of the problem!"

"What is?" John asked, confused.

"Well, this guy is such a jerk... you know what our homework has been for the past 4 classes?"

"Noooo... what?"

"We were supposed to 'summarize' the first four chapters of his book, our textbook, _Magical Me."_

"Ah... so..." John began carefully, "since you've TOLD Papa your homework has been caught up across those days, you HAVE, of course, completed those assignments, right? O, Harry, please tell me you turned in those assignments!" John laughed and begged with a pleading voice.

"Well, yes, John. Yes, sort of..."

This brought a pained look on John's face, as he closed his eyes. "OK, lay it on me, Little Brother. I can take it. What do you mean 'sort of...'"

"Well," and here Harry paused, trying to screw up the nerve to speak on. "I've turned in all four assignments, but I just can't stand having to sit there and waste half an hour stroking this jerk's ego. So, I went through each of the chapters and just wrote a list... 'And then you went there, and killed this. And then you killed this there... etc.' It just came out to a simple list of like 8 pieces of crap per chapter, and I turned it in. He doesn't GRADE the stupid things anyway, John! It's just a Check or Incomplete."

John took a deep breath. "OK, so..."

"Well, there's this problem..."

"Which is?"

"Lockhart cornered me in the hall before luncheon today, and dragged me to his office. He handed me back my parchments, and said while he appreciated that being 'The Boy Who Lived' I was incredibly busy, he still felt my assignments lacked 'color' and 'narrative flair'. He wants them redone... by Monday... or he'll mark them Incomplete. Now, I can probably just sneak all that... do the work in Study Hall tomorrow and finish up Sunday or something, but..."

"But... as you point out, that would be to 'sneak' it. Not to mention how you answer Papa tonight when he asks if all your work is done so you can have tomorrow free. I see the problem. So, what's wrong with just telling Papa all about this, dealing with whatever that entails, and finishing the work?"

"Well, I'm not afraid... that's not it. But tomorrow I have a Quidditch Practice I MUST not miss, since I missed the one Saturday. And we have the Slytherin game this Saturday. What are the chances that I'll get 'grounded' over this? I'd kill to play Seeker Saturday. You know how good he is at flying and Quidditch, and how good you are. Neither of you have ever seen me play, and I don't want anything to stop that. I know it's not the 'homework' that he'd take so seriously, as the 'sort of lying' and... well..."

"And your attitude about _PROFESSOR_ Lockhart. You need to get used to saying that, Harry. If you slip, the consequences will be immediate. You don't refer to a professor by their last name in this house, or in Papa's presence. You just DON'T."

"I know," Harry mumbled miserably. "So what do I do?"

John just sat there a moment or two with his eyes closed. "All right, I'll tell you what you do. First, you sit down there and start on those assignments. No whingeing, no whining, just suck it up and start the work. Second, you start thinking about how you justify your position in a "little chat" without convicting yourself with your own words. Find ways to express your concerns about the Dark Arts class without being contemptuous and disrespectful of _PROFESSOR_ Lockhart!

"In fact!" John interrupted himself with a finger snap, "I've just had a brilliant idea. Harry, I am your elder brother, correct?"

"Yes..." he responded, confused.

"And you must mind me, obey me, in the absence of Papa, yes?"

"Yes..." Harry continued.

"And Papa is currently behind the closed door of his study... _So! Harry Potter! Shame on you for your disgraceful behavior regarding Professor Lockhart and your Dark Arts Homework. Go move your chair and a small table to a corner of your room, and begin your remedial homework this instant! Until I tell you you are relieved of your punishment!"_

Harry "got it" immediately. "Omigosh, John... you think this could possibly work?"

"We can but try, Little Brother. Now move it! Before Papa's door opens. And remember... act 'punished', ok?"

"Right!" and Harry "moved".

A few minutes later, Pavel came out from his Study ready to usher the brood to the Great Hall for Supper as John and the children rose when he entered the room. He nodded and gestured the children back to their seats. Ron and Hermione, who had been briefed on the current situation, had been sitting there reading textbooks at the table, John was still near the fireplace quietly reading, and Harry was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Harry" Pavel asked curiously.

John turned to face his father with a rather stern expression, and said, "Harry is in his room, in a corner, working on some remedial homework I have assigned him for disciplinary reasons."

"I see," Pavel responded, a bit taken aback with a raised eyebrow. "Anything I need to address?"

"I don't see why, sir. The situation arose while you were working, so as elder brother with adult authority, I have taken it upon myself to take corrective action on my own. Is that acceptable?"

"Of course, son. By all means. May I ask the circumstances?" Paul inquired, walking to his coat rack to don his robes for the High Table.

"Let us just say there is some remedial writing to be done, a bit of attitude adjustment and behavioral modification, that will probably impinge on the first 30 minutes after we return. By 7:30 or so, I'm fine if he joins in our family life until curfew. I simply felt he needed a bit of a reminder concerning respect and proper academic deportment. For the moment, I'd like to keep this just between the two of us. Perhaps Sunday we could share the situation with you a bit more fully. I should like to complete his correction on my own, by your leave."

"Certainly, Master Constantine. I'm sure Harry will benefit greatly from your training."

"Thank you, sir. Harry!" John called sharply into Harry's room. "Time to go to Supper in the Great Hall. Now, let's see if you can behave yourself."

"Yes, sir," Harry looked down as he put his Gryffindor robe over his clothes. "I'll try, sir." Though he couldn't look John in the eye when he said it. He just headed towards "his door" without getting eye contact with anybody, as Hermione and Ron followed close behind.

Even as Harry walked before him to his door, Pavel could feel that he was being "managed". Harry was radiating "anxiety" certainly, but it was towards himself, not towards John. Towards John there was just that same warmth, and a sense of "relief" and "rescue". It made Pavel smile to remember when he'd seen this behavior and profile before. It was from John as a boy, when Iryna would play "stern punishing mother" addressing his misbehavior, so that Pavel, being as _"busy as he was with important things", would not need to "trouble himself" in her words_. Whenever he would eventually get the full story, it always turned out that Iryna was taking advantage of their "double jeopardy" rule... that John would not be punished by two different authorities for the same offense, unless there was obvious defect to the first. As long as her discipline was even "close" to adequate, that foreclosed Pavel from "piling on" as they thought of it.

So... he was being "managed". His son had stepped in and "foreclosed" him on something Harry had done, that would probably anger him, and result in a consequence John felt was too severe for the boy. That's what he suspected, at least.

Pavel's suspicions were confirmed at Supper. While he was dedicated to not using telepathy to pry into their lives, he had no such qualms about simple auditory "eavesdropping". As he ate, quietly sitting at the Head Table, he heard Harry spill the beans on the entire conspiracy there with Ron and Hermione. Listening to Harry wax eloquent on his views regarding Professor Lockhart, Pavel was sorely tempted to mind-speak with him right there and then. However, the old intelligence maxim never to burn your best source of information stayed his hand. The children, at this point, had no clue how acute his selective hearing was. Nonetheless, this was entirely unacceptable, and if John insisted on resolving this disciplinary situation, then by gosh he was going to be held accountable to do it.

At 7:00 all returned to the Konstantyn Apartment, John banished Harry back to his room for another half hour of homework, and Pavel and John pulled out their chess sets to play in round robin with the children and one another. At 7:30, Harry asked permission to join them, which John granted, instructing him to bring out his chess set as well.

He was confused, since everyone was paired up and he was "odd man out". But then Pavel walked over, picked up a black and a white pawn, had Harry blind pick, and began a game with him as Harry chose white. So Pavel played at one table against Ron, and declared his moves to another table against Harry. While John played head to head with Hermione. Harry went down in 12 moves, while Ron took 22. John enjoyed playing with Hermione, though she pondered each move overly long. She played a very conservative game, and became flustered when he made any aggressive assault into her side.

Ron and Harry were laughing so much thinking how easily Pavel had taken them out, even blind playing one of the games... John decided to show them something.

"Guys, you don't know how frustrating it was for me... Watch this..." and John summoned a fourth board. Then he walked into his room and got a scarf, walked behind his father, said, "Papa, if you please..." and blindfolded him.

"John, no... this is not right..."

"You did it to me when I was a boy. With all my friends of the chess club. They need to see this..."

"All right, but after this, we play Monopoly, no?"

"OK, Papa, Monopoly it will be. You'd best be quick then."

And John set up all four boards in different parts of the room, as Pavel sat with his back to them, blindfolded, facing the fireplace. Each of them started with white, to give them every advantage. and at whatever pace in whatever order, they announced their moves. Within five seconds of announcing their move, Pavel would declare his, and then the next player would proceed.

Harry was mated first, Hermione second - mainly because she took more time with each move, Ron next, and finally even John. The entire match took them less than 10 minutes, and they were just amazed. John removed the blindfold, thanked Pavel, and banished the sets all back where they belonged.

"Papa doesn't play competitively anymore, because people suspect him of using magic to compete. But he doesn't. That's just mortal chess skill and incredible memory skill and drill. Any of you can learn that. I can only do one to two games myself, he can do several more.

"Anyway, let's see if we can bankrupt him at Monopoly, anyway... We have about an hour before you all turn into pumpkins or white rats, and need to get to bed!"

 _It became a great night and Pavel let them, indeed, bankrupt him, before his typical cry of "Begone, Waifs!"._


	35. Friday's Child

**Friday's Child**

Friday morning, the Trio reported to Professor Snape's classroom to find instructions on parchment on the boys' desks. Rather than textbook and writing assignments, it appeared they were going to brew some potions. Ron's was a potion he had struggled with the previous week in class. Harry's was a potion to reduce inflammation in joints. Professor Snape stepped from his lab to the classroom as they were reading the instructions.

"Good morning, class. You each know what to do, so get on about it," and he stepped aside to admit them to the laboratory. Hermione's station had the two Polyjuice Potions in work, along with the ingredients to be added today. Ron and Harry's stations had been similarly prepared.

"I'll not hover, gentlemen. But just as with Ms. Granger, if you have a question or concern please ask and I'll try to help you. The text is not always clear on ingredient preparation as to exact size or texture. I'd rather you ask the question than waste the material," and he took a seat on a stool at a teacher's lectern to grade papers, remaining in the lab rather than retiring to the classroom.

In just a very few minutes, Hermione had completed her work, the professor reviewed her notebook and cauldrons, and she was dismissed. Snape took the opportunity to look over the boys' efforts, and offered some suggestions.

"Stir that just a little more vigorously, Mr. Potter. You want the color to even out completely while the liquid comes to a boil."

"There you go, Mr. Weasley. That's where you had a hard time last week. Wait for the foam on top to disappear completely before you add the slug slime. Otherwise it will congeal and stick to the bubbles from the foam, making those lumps you could not remove. Good job."

By the end of 45 minutes, Ron had decanted an excellent topical antiseptic, and Harry had the first of his possible inflammation potions. They bounded out at 7:15 feeling like they'd just cured the common cold, excited to tell Hermione all about it. As Harry passed one of the classroom bookcases, he paused to ask, "Professor Snape, would it be all right if I took one of these old books here? There may be something more in them about what I'm looking for."

Snape glanced that way, saw they were old classroom texts, and readily agreed, "Go ahead, that's fine."

Harry took an old one he thought no one would want, _"Advanced Potion Making"_ by Libatius Borage.

The Trio were surprised, as they mounted the staircase from the Potions Dungeon, to be met by the Professor in what was clearly "traveling attire", carrying his attache case. They were subjected to a short, sweet, speech very familiar to children from healthy families whose fathers traveled from time to time on business, that went something like...

"I am going to be out of town today, and may be out of touch for a short while. While I'm gone, you are to mind your 'mother' - " in this case "Professor McGonagall, and Master Constantine" - "as though I were here. I will be back soon, and be checking on how you behave. I will deal with any matters on that when I return. Do you understand?"

Harry had heard Vernon Dursley have similar talks with Dudley in the past, though never with him. This was a "family thing" to which Harry knew he had never been entitled. So, other than the curiosity of where he was going and why he was going, there was no anxiety to the "implied threat"... just an odd sensation of "belonging". Ron and Hermione, of course, had had such "talks" before, so simply took it in stride as they all three responded with, "Yes, sir."

Harry did follow up with, "Where are you going, sir? And how long do you plan to be away?"

"Well, Harry, I expect to return in time for my 3:00 office hours and Study Hall, and I'm torn how much to tell you as this is 'adult business' that I don't want you fretting about. However, knowing you'd otherwise be overly concerned, I am going to my office in the East, to check on the prisoners we captured and see about any new developments there. So, I don't expect to be in 'danger', or at any risk that need worry you. John will be here with you. And for the moment, this is not a matter that the three of you can help, so let this go for today, Harry," Pavel smiled and ruffled his hair. "Today just enjoy being 'the boy who lives' and stay out of trouble. I should be back by the time you greet Mr. Filch.

"I've let you know this because I will be away from campus, and will try to inform you anytime that is so. Also, if for any reason you feel in danger, or you need my immediate physical presence, you need only call out for me in your minds. But, other than that, until my return, I will need to be free of interruptions, so do not call to me unless there is grave need. John, however, will be available to speak or answer questions, and so on. All right?"

Three heads nodded, as Harry suddenly stepped to him and hugged him around the waist. "You go have a good day. We'll be good. Stay safe!"

Pavel dropped to one knee to exchange a 'proper hug', and whispered softly in Harry's ear, "I will, _miy ulyublenyy syn,_ I will. And I'll be back before you know it." Then, rising again and disengaging, he bellowed, "Now _Behave! Waifs!"_ and with a wave, he walked on to the Potions classroom to use Professor Snape's floo. _  
_

* * *

After breakfast, Hermione headed to the Library while Ron and Harry changed into play clothes to go out for their Quidditch practice on the Pitch at 10. Wood and the rest of the team were happy to see them, as Harry took a bit of good-natured teasing for being so absent from social life for the week. The rumor had been intentionally spread that this was due to his getting in trouble Saturday last, and Professor McGonagall curbing his free time considerably as a result. Everyone knew he'd gotten a _3-Detention-with-Filch_ sentence, which was about the worst punishment assigned a Gryffindor, so Harry got more sympathy than joshing from his teammates.

Ron was a backup utility player, and got to practice with the team. If a Beater or the Keeper were too sick to play or got injured during the game, Ron would substitute. His skills and broom weren't quite up to Chaser or Seeker, but he enjoyed the practicing and playing he did, and hoped to make the permanent Keeper position next year.

Harry took to the air like a bird, flying through the warmups and heading to the Pitch as Wood got the Quidditch Case from the Field House. Looking around, Harry could see John out on his broom, just keeping an overseeing eye on the grounds as some students played muggle ball games on the grass, and others flew for leisure or walked around the Black Lake. Harry mind-spoke a greeting to John, and announced his presence.

 _"Hey, Squirt," John replied. "I see you over there. I'll be over that way shortly. Don't worry, I'll see your practice."_ He didn't want to distract or worry Harry by pointing out that he had men posted around the wards, searching for more bad guys, or that such scheduled opportunities to get to Harry as a Quidditch game or practice, were the highest risk exposures. He and Papa didn't want Harry worrying about things like that. Just that he know to be where he was supposed to be, when he was supposed to be there, "or else"... and that "or else" be nothing more serious than Papa's displeasure, or the sharp edge of Professor McGonagall's tongue.

John zoomed down into a hidden nook at Hagrid's Cottage to take Raven form and make another pass of the boundaries. His Raven eyesight was vastly superior to human, and he wanted to look deeply into the Forest and all the surrounding terrain, being sure to see his own men and their positions, and take one more chance at spotting the enemy. His circuit completed, John resumed human contour and flew to a position over the Quidditch Pitch where he watched Harry's practice while monitoring the grounds at the same time.

He had to smile as he watched Harry play, seeing his breathtaking dives and turns when he spotted the snitch. Some of the maneuvers were so daring it even troubled John. _It made him laugh to think, "Papa won't know whether to burst with pride, or ground the boy for a month, when he sees this."_

 _Tomorrow would be an interesting day. But he hoped today would be just as interesting, and productive._

 **Meanwhile, 1500 miles away:**

Pavel stepped through Ivailo's floo, at the Central office of the Auror and Intelligence Apparat, Protectorate of Magic, in Bucharest. Waving a hand to banish floo dust, he rapidly exited, walked a few doors down along a rather dim gray corridor, and entered an open office bay filled with half a dozen or so desks and workstations. Personnel stood and smiled as he entered, with a chorus of "Good morning, sir."

Paul smiled, shook his head as he closed the door behind him, said, "Seats... and I am retired, dear friends. I am merely a 'visitor' now," in light humored correction of their courtesies.

Everyone sat and resumed their work, except for a lovely blond haired supervisor, who approached him with outstretched hand as she said, "Of course, you are, sir. We all understand just how 'retired' you are."

Ignoring her hand, smiling he reached out as they embraced and exchanged kisses on both cheeks. He muttered, "don't be impertinent, Oxsana," with a laugh.

"Sorry, sir," she responded, without the slightest hint of contrition, as she continued, "I am very glad you could come. I am really not sure how to proceed, and I did not want to risk error with such high priority captives."

"Thank you for your call and your caution. I am not sure I'll have any better idea, but let's see what we have, eh? Tell me again, what the problem is?" Pavel responded, stripping off his outerwear and hanging them neatly aside. He no longer had an office or closet here, which bothered him not in the least.

"Well, sir, they simply seem 'blank'. When I take them out of stasis, even if they are immobilized, immediately their minds begin to quest for Petrov. The sympathetic connections have been purged from them, but they seek to reestablish them almost immediately. If I try to interrupt their reaching out by making very clear that if they succeed they will die instantly at his hands, there is no deterrence at all. We have them in secure Faraday holding, but they seem to find ways around that. So we have had some Death mages try taking them to other planes, but that does not discourage them either. At the moment, it is as if they can do one, and only one thing... connect with Petrov. So we keep them in Stasis."

"I see..." Paul answered, leaning on Oxsana's desktop, listening intently. "Of course you have tried lifting memories from their minds even as they try to reach out?"

"Yes, sir. And it's so frustrating. The memories are THERE, clearly. But it's like they are there in raw code, imprinted in their brains, but without the application of their own consciousness, their own minds, I cannot decode the data into a usable form. I have access to the raw coded data, but no algorithm to convert that into usable information or images."

Pavel nodded, stroked a non existent goatee downwards as he thought. "I assume brute force lifts have been tried?" This did not refer to anything physical, but rather an application of extraordinary energy by multiple mind mages simultaneously and irresistibly to command compliance with instructions or disclosure of information.

"Yes, sir. That's when we knew we had to call you. That only resulted in complete mental shutdown. Not only was there no compliant response, but their brains began to cease function, and affecting their autonomic functions. Had we continued, I believe they'd have died before any disclosure."

Pavel remained silent, contemplating the situation. She knew his expressions, and did not interrupt. Though she had considered a couple of possible approaches. She waited for his eyes to open and return to hers.

"Would you care to walk with me, sir?" Oxsana smiled, flashing to his mind's eye a pathway at a nearby park where they had often met and talked for privacy. The surroundings were much more conducive to creative thinking than the gray ministry concrete walls.

"Certainly," he smiled in response, as the two of them "blinked" to a park bench on a lovely grassy lawn surrounding a duck pond. They quickly surveyed the scene, and noted there was no one within a half kilometer of them. "Before we continue," he interrupted himself, "how is your dear mother?"

"She is just fine, Godfather, and she asks about you all the time. How is John doing? We miss him around here, you know," and now that they had privacy, she hugged his neck.

"He is just fine, very happy, causing trouble among scores of children and teens. He seems to have found his perfect setting!" Pavel laughed. Oxsana's father had been his best friend and partner in early days of their career. He was Oxsana's godfather, and when her father died in the line of duty Pavel and Iryna had been very present in the life of her family. John was as her brother, and it had been a very hard thing, indeed, for Pavel to see her pursue this career. Still, there was no doubt of her giftedness, skills, or dedication. She was an excellent Inquisitor.

"So, Oxsana, you've had an idea or two... I can tell."

"Well... yes. First, I am very concerned that we not lose these men, so I've been hesitant to experiment much with probing them. I thought perhaps you, could recreate their minds in a cognitive container, since you've the ability to do that _ex nihilo_ , which I do not. Then we could probe the 'backups' while still keeping the 'originals on ice' so to speak."

Pavel nodded, "That is certainly a thought... But there's more. I can feel your reticence. You have another idea, that apparently you do not believe I would approve." Pavel's eyes narrowed, as he waited for her to come clean.

"I did. Remember, all I need is the algorithm to decode the memory data and then their minds will be an open book. It is such a small thing... So, I thought, even though I cannot recreate their minds _ex nihilo_ , overlaying their templates onto blank organic material... I COULD most likely overlay one's template onto my OWN mind, melding us for a time, and acquiring the algorithm in the process..." she could feel Pavel's anger rising, and decided to simply wait it out, hoping it would pass.

"Show me!" was all he said, inviting her to display into his mind, precisely how this event would work. She opened her meditations to him, and saw her use her skills to insinuate herself fully into the mind of a prisoner, then awaken him. The thrumming of the obsession would begin, like the pounding of his pulsing heart, while desperately he would try to reach out to Petrov, like a panicked animal ignoring everything around it except the single thought to flee! That Oxsana would have to ignore all of that, exert all of her willpower to resist succumbing to it, while she settled in to memory data and tried to absorb by osmosis the interpretive key from this prisoner. She would have to wait, steeped in the memories, until recognizable thoughts, words, and images began to form. At that point she would know she held the algorithm, she could sedate the prisoner again, and withdraw back into the boundaries of her own identity... retaining her own memory of the interpretive key.

When she finished, Oxsana just sat silently on the bench with her eyes closed, prepared and waiting for the storm of Pavel's temper that she knew was going to break upon her. The plan, at the moment, had too many flaws, too many holes, and was an altogether unjustifiable risk. That is not what was going to get her in trouble. Wednesday night, two nights ago, she came very close to executing this plan. She had been unspeakably frustrated. She had good mages around her with considerable mind skill. She knew time was pressing and passing in England, and feared that they would lose the track of Petrov all together. She came within a hair's breadth of attempting this, and risks be damned. She knew there was no way to conceal that fact from Pavel... so she waited for the storm to arrive.

It was worse than that. There was no storm. Instead, Pavel was utterly silent. She wished he would yell, or at least speak. That, she could handle. But this, she knew, was his regaining his self control. And she just hated it when she'd made him this angry. All there was to do was wait. So wait, she did.

After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke. "The idea has merit. It is well that you did not attempt it Wednesday," he struggled to keep his tone neutral. "That would have been... inadvisable... and unfortunate."

Still, Oxsana knew better than to say anything. She waited on the old man.

"I see three problems. One, you cannot be certain of how strong the obsession, or that you could surmount it with will, even cooperatively. Two, you do not know how long it will take you to intuit the interpretive key. Three, you 'assume' you will have the strength to sedate the prisoner again, and egress his mind cleanly. There is no way to know how drained you could be at that time. There is, of course, the one other risk any time we enter another's mind this way."

"Yes," she nodded. "I could potentially release my hold on my own ego anchors, and become hopelessly lost in his mindscape. However, Papa Pavel," she dared the slightest of smiles, "I find that generally my 'ego' is quite sound and strong."

"You are sailing far to close to the edge of that cliff, child..." he growled. She looked down at her hands again. He mellowed his voice, "What kept you from daring this Wednesday?"

"Frankly, I had a number of support mind wizards with me, I thought I could handle the obsession. But without knowing how long this would take, and how much it would cost me... Well, I am the strongest of the Mind Mages here. There would be no one else, no one outside of this..."

"Who could pull you out if necessary," Pavel finished for her. "You realized, you needed me. Between my full mastery, and the sympathetic connection we share, you believe I could extract you if necessary, even if you are incapacitated."

"That's correct, sir," she said, looking up at him, speaking with a firm voice.

"That, Wednesday night, young lady, was a 'near miss'. You know that. Only your discipline to avoid unreasonable or unjustified risk, along with - apparently - your fear of me, and potential consequences, kept you from attempting a potentially disastrous intervention. I should refer this to Ivailo."

"You wouldn't!" she breathed, a bit shocked.

"No, I wouldn't, but I am this close..." he said, indicating an inch or so with his fingers, "from administering a painful reminder of proper precautions myself, right here, right now."

She looked back down at her hands, not to antagonize him or tempt fate. She had known such "administration" in her life, only once, when she was sixteen. She had decided that she was too big, too adult and too smart to have to worry about adult supervision or rules anymore, and that "curfew" was a childish custom. Her mother was beside herself, when time after time she would set Oxsana a curfew on a school night, and she would come in anywhere from 30 to 60 minutes late, as the mood suited her. It was silly, just foolishness, she wasn't doing anything bad or wrong... just having pizza or burgers with her friends. It was just the point that she was too old to be told what time to come home, and she was going to assert her independence and have her own way. Her mother worried about her, and now... doing what she did for a living... she fully understood why, and was grateful. But not so much at the time.

Her mother called Pavel for advice, and he came over for a "little chat" with the both of them. Now, all her life she'd hung out with John a lot, and they'd gotten in trouble as children from time to time... stood in a corner, restricted from flying, even grounded a day or two at a time. She knew Papa Pavel was not a man to trifle with. But this... this "little chat" with him and her mother was different. He made things perfectly clear... she was being disobedient and defiant, she knew better, she was disrespecting her mother, and that was simply going to stop. If this happened one more time, and she were late home without acceptable justification, then he would deal with her precisely as her late father would, and they both knew exactly what that meant. He made it very clear, this was not what he wanted or where he wanted their relationship to go, but as her godfather he would see to it that she understood she indeed was accountable to the authority of her parents, and that if she defied them in this way again, there would be unavoidable painful consequences.

He'd made enough of an impression that she was on time for several weeks running. But then one night, on the way home one of her friends wanted to stop by a new cafe and, against her better judgment, she thought, "he won't really do it. I'll be ok." Well, when she arrived home an hour late, she found him sitting there looking... more sad than angry. They talked, she spoke truth without excuse, he repeated the reasons they were there, and she discovered that there was no bluff nor bluster to her godfather. He kept his word, and there had been no further call across her entire life to repeat the lesson. Even when she was a cadet auror, and he her training master. They never referred to the incident again.

So here, now, sitting in this park, was the first time he'd ever said such a thing. And she knew, he was not a man for empty threats. She did not look at him resentfully or rebelliously, she knew he loved her greatly and did not ever want to see her hurt out of foolishness or thoughtless impulse.

"Papa Pavel?" she looked at him, "I considered the possibility, and almost resolved to try it. But ultimately, I decided it did not have enough depth of backup and exit strategy to it, and tempted as I was, I chose to turn away. I turned away because I deemed it an unjustified risk, and that is because of the training you have drilled into all of us. So, if I need 'reminding', then so be it, I'll yield to that. BUT I've asked you to come specifically because I will not take THAT risk, and I hope between us we can plan a better way to get what we need."

At which his heart melted, and he folded her into his arms as he kissed the top of her head. _"Myla dytyna moya,"_ he whispered. And suddenly he stood and cleared his throat, "let us walk. I may have thought of an alternative, with significantly less risk."

"Truly?" she asked, leaping up alongside him. "What's that?"

"What level of consciousness contains the obsession?" he asked, in a musing, speculative voice.

"Level of consciousness? I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"Well, as we peel back the layers of someone's mind, we move through progressive stages of consciousness, yes? First there is the conscious, then the sensory awareness, then subconscious, then unconscious, etc. yes?"

"Yes," Oxsana agreed.

"Well, the interpretive key has to be somewhere well below conscious awareness, the mind accesses memory when we dream or even in a coma."

"Yes, I see this..."

"Well, what layer of consciousness has Petrov embedded this obsession into? I would guess it is the conscious layer, since you say it is when you waken them that they struggle to establish contact. So, perhaps if you can insert yourself without rousing them... accessing only the unconscious or subconscious layer, you could soak and find the algorithm without their egos activating to be muddled with yours, and without the obsession offering any challenge at all."

Oxsana froze in her tracks and stared off into space as she pondered this. "O... Papa Pavel... What a fool I am! Of course! That would all be so much simpler. Pfft!" she made a sound of self derision, "I should have thought of that!"

"Nonsense. You thought of a brilliant plan, I just took it a little bit farther. Now... how many skilled mind magicians do you have?"

"I have 5, sir," as again she began to think like an Inquisition Team Leader.

"Fine, then I have a thought. You enter and find that boundary layer between the unconscious and subconscious, but just rest there, quiescently. Have four of your support team, gently come join you, but suggest just the barest hint that the prisoner should 'sleep and dream'. Nothing sudden, harsh, or strong... just the barest whiff, the gentlest breeze. And see if his mind begins to reach to memories. If so, you should sense the algorithm at work, and be able to absorb it."

"And you, sir?"

"I will be at your side, but anchored out here. If need be I will jerk us out of there and render the subject senseless immediately. You keep that one more assistant free and monitoring your 'dream encouragers' the same way I am monitoring you. Should anyone get into trouble, he or she can pull them out. How does that sound? One operative, four background security, and two external backups for emergency extraction if necessary?"

"Sounds brilliant, sir." Oxsana smiled. "Think it would pass my old boss's scrutiny?" she laughed.

"I suspect so, little one," he laughed.

"Think we should inform Ivailo then?"

"Yes. Not so much needing his 'permission', as making him aware of what risks we ARE taking, whether with personnel or with the prisoners. It's always good not to surprise the man, just in case something goes awry."

They "blinked" back to the office, briefed Ivailo on the plan, and immediately briefed the team. Bright and eager as they are, they caught on immediately and within minutes all was in readiness. The actual deed was almost anticlimactic, as Oxsana settled into the mind of the lackey without struggle, and the assistants "lulled' him to dreams as smoothly as ripples on water. Pavel watched as Oxsana watched and they saw the "interpretive key" as a set of thoughts, like a little tangle of thread, or squiggle of spiderweb, move as a construct from one set of data to another. Oxsana hovered over the construct, duplicated it, took a moment to apply her copy to various sets of memory data, removed it, and began to move to "the surface", exiting this man's mind.

"How simple! Here it is... " and in her palm was an ectoplasmic form like a memory for a penseive.

"How do you feel, Oxsana? How trying was the process?" Pavel asked.

"Not bad at all. I think the team can do this on our own if you need to go. I'm ready to go on."

"No, I'd rather not leave you with this. You never know for sure what might happen," Pavel looked up at the Tempus on the wall and saw he'd been here only an hour, and the clock showed 12 noon. With the two hour time difference he was still just fine. "Take a 30 minute break, then let's do this again. Then, if that goes just as smoothly, we'll break again for half an hour, and do the last one. Agreed?"

"Yes, sir..." all agreed.

Pavel fought his own impatience to sit and rest for that time, as he so urgently wanted to begin retrieving memories and decoding. Only his years of realizing that Master Mage or not, exertion has limits and he needed to respect them, helped him prioritize the safety of this intervention, over his burning desire for the information it should yield. By one hour later, they had acquired the keys from all three thugs, who were still sleeping the sleep of the righteous in their stasis shells.

Of course, there was the temptation for Pavel to remain and decode the memories and information. But that was no longer his job. Oxsana and her team were well qualified to do all the data mining and analysis, and he would wait for results to be reported. So at 1:00 local time, Pavel was saying his goodbyes and heading for Ivailo's floo to return to Hogwarts.

He stepped through into his own apartment study floo, put down his attache case, and jumped out the window, summoning his broom to his hand as he reached John and transformed from bat to Professor.

John joyfully exclaimed, "Hello, there, Papa! Delighted, but surprised, to see you. Harry is there in practice."

"I know," Pavel smiled. "I knew he wanted us to see him practice, and I'm sure he was disappointed this morning. But I could not know for sure that I could return in time. I thought it better not to say I might be back in time, and then risk disappointing him by being delayed. Oxsana and the team send you their love, and they miss you. We should start getting intel soon. Everything went well."

John knew any more detailed reportage could wait until later. Papa wanted to watch Harry fly. John had to laugh as he backed off a meter or so, letting Pavel watch Harry's breathtaking maneuvers, shaking his head with concern from time to time. Seeing the team land and take a brief break for drinks there, Pavel descended a bit, and mind spoke, _"I hope you're wearing your mouthpiece when you dive and turn like that!"_

Harry's head shot up to look towards where he knew John had been hovering, and he broke into a huge grin with a mental shout... _"Professor! You're back! You came!"_ and he jumped on his broom to shoot towards them, and the three of them hovered together for a moment.

"Yes, I'm back, and everything is fine. So you go on with your practice, and I'll watch a bit. I'll see you at luncheon, and then if you're free afterwards you can either play outside until you meet Mr. Filch, or.. ahem..." he cleared his throat, "if you have any homework to complete, we could sit at home for the early afternoon. Of course, you'll have that 4:00 study hall anyway, so your choices are up to you."

"If it's all the same with you, sir, I do think I can finish the homework in Study Hall, so I wonder if maybe we could play chess or something together after luncheon?" Harry didn't know why, but he'd 'missed' Pavel terribly in the morning. He didn't know why, and it made no sense, since he'd said he'd be back by Office Hours anyway. And he often went all day without seeing him. But it was just knowing that he "wasn't there" that he found upsetting somehow And now, he was back, and everything was ok again.

"That will be fine, Harry. Chess it is... Knights at 10 paces!" and he rendered a wand salute! "Now, go get your drink, and I think your team awaits. I'll see you after lunch." And Pavel kept his station while he watched the boy fly back to the Pitch. Then, without appearing to move his head, Pavel used mage sight to make a slow, careful, panoramic examination of the surrounding environs knowing that he had just flashed their prey in front of an unknown number of predators that probably surrounded them at this moment. Frustrated, he could sense nothing out of the ordinary. So he flew to one of the upper stands of the Pitch, and settled into a seat to watch the rest of practice, rather than sit a broom the whole time. He covered himself with an invisibility glamour not to raise questions, and enjoyed watching his son nearly break his neck... repeatedly.

From 1:00 to 3:00 Pavel and Harry sat, played chess, laughed, talked about flying and Quidditch, and looked like any other father and son who really enjoyed one another's company anywhere in the world. As 3:00 approached, Pavel rose saying, "Duty calls... off we go."

"Yup, OK, I'll see you at 4 then," as he popped out his door. And at 4:00, when Harry arrived in the Study Hall, he looked far happier than any 2nd year coming from a detention with Mr. Filch had a right to look.

 _Pavel mind spoke, "Everything went well, then?"_

 _"Oh, yes, sir. I got the last valves done, and Mr. Filch was absolutely flabbergasted. It was so funny. He didn't know what to say. He huffed like he was mad, but he wasn't. He was just astonished. AND I got some of his stuff for... erm, nevermind, sir," and Harry discovered how impossible it was to recall a transmitted half thought..._

 _Pavel chuckled back, "No problem, son. I know you have something going on about Mr. Filch and I don't need to know. I know you have adequate supervision, so I'm just glad it's working out. Now... time to finish some homework?"_

 _"Yessir, I'm on it," Harry sent, as he sat and pulled out his materials. "And thanks for being understanding... for not asking."_

 _"Pfft," Pavel mock growled, "Get your work done now!"_

 _"Yessir." Harry laughed back._


	36. Everything as Clear as Mud

**Everything as Clear as Mud**

Saturday dawned slightly overcast, but clear enough at ground level for good flying, which the Trio discovered as they arrived upstairs in the Great Hall for breakfast. Their "dungeon time" today had been singularly undemanding, or at least it was for the boys. Hermione, of course, had simply continued with the care and feeding of her pet potions, and Professor Snape had explained some of the interactions of the ingredients as they were added. That "five day window" between the two cauldrons really illustrated the dynamics and process as each step gradually modified the potion. Hermione mused that it was kind of like watching a plant grow with muggles' "time lapse" photography.

Ron and Harry were just a tad disappointed to find that they only had "book work" assignments, no brewing, for this morning. Ron had to review some sections of text, and do the questions in the back of the chapter, on some techniques he had described dismally in last week's classroom homework. Harry's assignment took him further with interactions between pain potions and inflammation potions. Professor Snape knew this was a "Quidditch Saturday", and wasn't going to risk any brewing disasters based on the boys' being distracted by anticipation.

Quite out of character for him, he stopped the boys at 7:00 saying, "that's enough for now. You can finish that up tomorrow. Go ahead and get changed. I can hear you squirming from here. Go!" and Ron and Harry grinned as they slammed their books shut, shoved everything randomly into their bags, and "quick-marched" out the door. _Severus just shook his head, and convinced himself he was glad to be rid of them for the next 23.5 hours... though he was beginning to enjoy their company. Nonsense! - he shook his head at this last thought. What was he saying?_

Pavel and John were also keyed up for the upcoming match, but for slightly more complex reasons. Yes, they indeed looked forward to watching Harry play, and rooting for him. But John would be on his own broom, adding a "Safety Officer" to the play, backing up Madame Hooch who was referee. Of course, his interest would be as much outside and around the stadium as within it. Pavel, on the other hand, would have to sit in the "Faculty Box" alongside Albus as a "disinterested spectator", as he was attached to no house. Only a handful of people at Hogwarts knew of the relationship between Harry and the Professor... really just the faculty and Harry's roommates. They needed things to stay that way for the time, as they knew word would get to Voldemort through some of the students and their Deatheater parents, otherwise. As long as Voldemort had contact with Petrov, it would be in Harry's best interest for his Apprenticeship to remain unknown.

As much as everyone hoped this game would just proceed without incident, Pavel and John's team lived by the maxim: _"Hope for the best, and plan for the worst."_ Everyone was on high alert readiness for any attempt or attack on Harry, as he was exposed in the game, and visitor spectators were permitted on the grounds. The Professor just kept flying circles at the boundaries, pacing, and maintaining an air of professional disinterest among the excited children around him, while the school migrated from the Castle down to the Stadium. He walked a complete circuit around the exterior of the Stadium, while everyone took their seats, and finally stepped through the entrance curtain on the ground at the Headmaster's Stands, then back out at the seats, last. All were seated already, and he took a back row seat to have the most complete view of all the action.

Just as Pavel was settling into his seat, Oxsana made gentle contact with him, _"Dr. Konstantyn? Am I disturbing anything?"_

 _"No, Oxsana, this is a free moment. What is it?"_

 _"Well, sir, we don't have comprehensive results yet, or anything profound to report except that as you've suspected, Petrov is apparently holed up somewhere called 'Knockturn Alley', and sends his minions off to do his bidding. BUT it appears that he has met with at least one Deatheater of Voldemort's there, though he never touched him or interacted enough to mark the sod. I just have an image of a face for you, if it helps."_

 _"Everything helps, Oxsana. What does this... 'creature'" - he refused to use foul language even here - "look like?" And in his mind's eye there formed an elegant, patrician gentleman's face. White hair, long and neatly tied back. Condescending expression, bejeweled hands, elegant cane - probably housing a wand or a blade. In his vision he did not hear him speak, probably Petrov had kept a silencing charm up, even against his own bodyguards. "Thank you, Oxsana. Should I see him, there is still nothing I can do directly about it, as this is not my jurisdiction, but at least I can recognize the threat. Keep at it. I look forward to a full report when you are ready."_

 _"Yes, sir. We're on it," and he felt her smile and a quick hug as they broke the connection._ Pavel began scanning the faces he could see in the stands, looking for his quarry. But to no avail... nothing. And then Madame Hooch began the festivities...

There was no rivalry as fierce as that of Slytherin and Gryffindor house. Pavel was pleased to see that Harry had his mouthpiece in and his armor active. Both teams were talented and clearly practiced hard. They were very skilled. The Slytherin team had superior brooms, and he saw Draco was playing Seeker for them. He knew these were not unrelated facts. But Gryffindor's riders seemed to hold their own well enough.

The play was brutal full-contact, as body checking and dangerous bludger shots were taken routinely. Slytherin made effective use of a "flying wedge" formation, and showed no hesitation to ram an opponent into a wall or tower support if the Gryffindor player did not pay close attention to evasion.

Pavel thoroughly enjoyed watching the play. Harry assisted the Chaser when he could, and helped guard other players as he "vamped", circling steadily to try to get a glimpse of the Snitch. He also varied his flight path, vertically and horizontally, knowing the snitch could appear anywhere, and not to be predictable to the opposition.

But suddenly, the Bludger began following a path no Beater had created. It turned about in midair, and... though Harry saw it and shouted a warning... it ripped into Wood's broom, splintering it and sending Wood spinning earthwards. The Bludger continued on towards Harry, just as Harry caught sight of the snitch near Malfoy's head. Harry started his full speed charge towards the Snitch, ducking the Bludger as its momentum carried it towards Malfoy.

Malfoy ducked the Bludger, looked towards Harry, spotted the Snitch, and the chase was on. Malfoy and Harry rode, broom to broom, chasing the Snitch as it made it's way into the walls of the Stadium. The Bludger chased after them mindlessly, breaking through walls and supports as it went.

John was helpless to intervene, even though he paced them, flying laps in ovals above them, able to see them between the inner and outer Stadium walls. To try to fly in there with them would only increase the danger and complicate the situation.

Pavel "partitioned his mind", invoking an ability to immerse in three separate streams of consciousness - more if needed - to join with Harry's mind and "see through his eyes" , to do the same with John so that he had an "overhead view" as well, and - most importantly, to scan the minds of everyone in this Stadium, to see who was controlling that Bludger. It would be simplicity itself for him merely to destroy it, and he "pondered heavy" as they say, about doing just that, but he calculated that between Harry's skill and his armor, the higher priority task here was to let the Bludger be and find out who, specifically, is trying to kill Harry with it.

In that next moment, a very rare event occurred. Herr Doctor Professor Pavel Konstantyn was mentally stopped in his tracks, by "confusion". He was looking upon facts he considered "impossible", and yet there they were. He had discovered the man to whom his "Deatheater Image" belonged. He was standing not two meters in front of him, sharing the Headmaster's Box... Lucius Malfoy. Pavel had entered above and after him, so had not seen his face nor his cane. Now, Lucius clearly intended harm, in fact, intended the death of Harry Potter. Further, he had, indeed consorted with Stoian Petrov. Those facts were clear to Pavel. BUT... the "impossible" part was... he had absolutely NOTHING to do with this Bludger. He was as confused as Pavel. In fact, he was at this moment, consumed with fear of that Bludger, since it threatened his own son, as well as Pavel's. The overwhelming resonance of harmonic terror... between Pavel and this man so clearly a deadly enemy... had so jarred his senses it was like the sound of "painful feedback" through an amplifier. It stunned him for a moment.

Suddenly, the Snitch hung a left, bursting through the banners of a tower, Harry leaned into the turn, and as Draco tried to follow suit, the leading edge of his broom caught a crossbeam sending him cartwheeling out onto the Pitch. He landed hard on the grass, knocking the wind out of him and falling back with the impact.

Harry closed on the snitch, reaching out with his gauntleted right hand to catch and grasp it, as the Bludger made a vicious swipe towards him and pummeled through his forearm, knocking off his gauntlet and breaking both bones above the wrist. Both Pavel and John heard and felt the screech of pain that accompanied the impact, as their channels were wide open to Harry in case he'd needed to speak. _Pavel silently thought, "The fool boy!" as Harry only tucked the broken arm into his robes and accelerated towards the Snitch, ultimately flying by seat alone as he reached out to grab it with his left hand._

Successfully grabbing the Snitch, but overbalancing on his broom, Harry rolled inverted, and skimmed along the ground eventually coming to a stop in the sand. As he triumphantly held the Snitch aloft to show all that the game was won, the Bludger caromed straight down at his head. He ducked away just in time, as it bounced to plunge at him again from the other side, bounced again and came at his legs for a third attempt. Ron and Hermione led the pack of spectators running towards him on the playing field, and Hermione cast a _"Finite Incantatem"_ at the Bludger while she ran. It exploded in pyrotechnics as they reached him.

Hermione, Ron, Hagrid, and Professor Lockhart were the first to arrive, as both John and Pavel had reached the field as well, taking positions on either side but meters away from Harry, guarding against whatever unknown threat was attacking him. They could tell that no one with Harry meant him harm, so they were focused outwards, towards the boundaries or visitors at the time.

They'd been paying little attention to the crowd gathering around Harry, as they mentally filtered people coming on the pitch, so they didn't attend too closely when he'd told Hermione that his arm was broken, which they knew... or when Lockhart offered to fix his arm straightaway, which Harry declined because he thought Lockhart was an idiot, which they also knew... Of course, Lockhart mangled the healing spell, removed the bones between Harry's elbow and wrist, then tried to minimize the situation by pointing out that Harry had no pain, and clearly, there were no bones broken. It wasn't until Hagrid shouted in exasperation, " _Broken?_ There's no bones _left!"_ that John and Pavel turned, just in time to see Lockhart bend Harry's wrist back double, and release it to bobble back and forth as if on a spring.

It was very fortunate that three things coincided in that moment. One, there was no actual threat present in the Stadium trying to harm Harry. Two, John took charge of Harry to transport him to the Infirmary for Madame Pomfrey to tend. Three, Albus came up alongside Pavel and put a very firm hand on his shoulder saying, "let's go to the Castle, Professor..." as Pavel's shock and rage had stunned him into immobility. His first reflex was to blast Gilderoy Lockhart into an alternate dimension, his second was to remove EVERY bone from his body and just let him lie there in an awkward puddle, and his third was to regain his composure before doing anything at all. Fortunately Albus' presence moved that third reflex up into first position, and he allowed himself to be led away quietly.

"Come along, Pavel, we shall go join them in Poppy's presently. John is with him, Harry will be fine."

It frustrated Pavel no end, that to maintain their "cover", he could not appear more than an "interested teacher" as Harry was treated and dealt with. He could not even speak his mind to that idiot Lockhart. _Of course, he mind-spoke with the boy immediately, "Harry, I won't ask 'are you all right', because that is a ridiculous question in the circumstances. Instead I'll just ask, do you need or want anything I can do?"_

 _It gave him great relief to hear Harry laugh in response, "Did you see me get the Snitch? Were you watching?!"_

 _"Yes, I was... you daft boy! You were being attacked by a rogue Bludger at the time. Did you consider letting the Snitch go, under the circumstances?"_

 _"Heck no, sir! Where'd the challenge be in that?" and there was nothing but mischief in Harry's tone_. Pavel had never been so pleased and grateful to be teased as he was in those minutes. _"I tell you what, though Professor... if you want to do something for me? How about you turn Lockhart into a Newt? That would make my day!"_

 _Pavel had to laugh in response, "that's 'turn_ **Professor** _Lockhart into a Newt', Harry. And I'm afraid the school has rules against transfiguring students... or faculty... as punishment. Professor McGonagall warned me of that when I started here."_

 _"I'll bet she'd make an exception right now," Harry giggled._

 _"I bet she would," Pavel thought... silently._

 _"We're here now, Professor," indicating his arrival at the Infirmary. "I'll see you soon, I'm sure."_

 _"Yes. We'll get you home shortly."_

Pavel returned to his quarters and sat in his study, meditating to recover his composure and ponder all that he'd seen and learned today. It was still a mystery to him, how events had transpired as they had. He still had his "observational channel" open with John, and saw Poppy administer Skele-grow to Harry, warning him that regrowing bones would be a painful process, and that she wanted to keep him overnight for observation.

After all the visitors had wished him well, had their "We Beat Slytherin" Party, and gone their way, John convinced Poppy that Harry would be safer and more secure in their quarters. They weren't sure about the nature or source of this attack on him, so if she would dispense the proper dosage of potion into John's care, he would see to its administration. If there were any problem or change in the night, they could send for her immediately. As Poppy had no concerns about problem recovery, she thought that would be fine, and let John take Harry and his medicine home with him, late that afternoon.

When John and Harry got home, Pavel was in his Study, but the door was open. The boys walked in through Harry's door, and John called out - more from form than any necessity - "Papa, we're home!" Harry said he wanted to take a shower and change clothes, but John asked him to wait up a little bit.

Harry stopped, already halfway to his room, and turned towards John with a confused look. "OK, how come?"

"I'm going to fix your arm, Little Brother," John replied. "Come sit at this table with me."

Harry complied, confused but obedient, saying, "I thought this was going to take until morning, with this potion."

"It would, with that potion. And it would hurt like crazy, too. But I'm a Life Wizard, Harry... I can fix that without all the other steps. Come sit, face me, and take my hand like we were going to arm wrestle."

Harry sat facing John, and had to use his left hand to place his rubberized right into John's fist. Neither of them could keep from laughing as the forearm just dangled, waving under John's hand like a banner in the wind.

"Now, watch," John said, as he closed his eyes, and golden light glowed along his arm and hand, then took over Harry's hand and started to creep its way along to the elbow. "Push on my fist... arm wrestle me." Harry tried pushing John's hand down, and his arm seemed to inflate, rather like a balloon toy. He felt the strength and solidity return, as his muscles and ligaments again had bone with which to connect. Before a minute had passed, he was shoving on John's arm as if he'd never been injured.

"Wow! John, that's so COOL! Can you teach me that?"

"Maybe, one day, Harry. Depends on where your skills lie eventually. You may even outdo me in the Life arcanum one day.

"Hey, John. Can you make me stronger? Strong enough to beat you at arm wrestling?"

John laughed and dropped his voice to say, "Yes, I can Harry... but not with Papa home."

"I HEARD THAT!" came the Dracula-like bellow from the Study.

"Of course, he did," John whispered to Harry. And they both cracked up, laughing. "Now, Harry, you can go shower and change. I thought it might be a little easier with two working hands."

"That's for sure... thanks, Elder Brother!"

"Go soak your head, Squirt," John sent him off to get his clothes.

John went in to the Study while Harry went to one of the apartment's two bathrooms. One bathroom had a big, Roman style bath tub that you felt like you could swim in, with powerful jets that tickled a bit when they were on full blast. The other bathroom had a misting shower you could make into all kinds of style of rain or mist, with hand wands to jet water anywhere you liked. The shower could function either manually or magically, depending on how much time you wanted to take. After the beating he'd taken in the game, Harry changed his mind and decided on a bath, just luxuriating in the soothing warm water.

While Harry was occupied, Pavel and John closed the Study door and compared notes on the days' events. They opened their memories to one another, caught up on the news from Oxsana, and came... to no conclusions whatsoever. They were still right where they started, with nothing making sense. They did contact Oxsana, and shared the identification of Lucius Malfoy with her, along with what intelligence Pavel had gathered on him from Albus after the game. Still, it was clear that he was totally innocent of the attack this afternoon. He certainly wouldn't have used a method that nearly killed his own son as well.

Mentally checking on Harry, and finding that he was having a wonderful time in the Roman Bath, having set the soap dispenser to "bubbles", and then the Jets to "maximum", Pavel groaned into his hands to see that his bathroom was now floor to ceiling suds. The room looked like a washing machine gone wild, and without magic would take an hour to clean properly. But he couldn't be angry at the boy. This fun, a safe home, bathing as long as he wanted... these were still all "new" things for him. Well, Pavel would make the effort not to "spoil" him, but it was truly tempting for a boy with such a good heart... but he'd let the bathroom slide, this time, with but a casual warning.

"What would you think of Auntie joining us for dinner tonight? We've got to keep the boy home until morning at least, so no one sees his healed arm," Pavel suggested.

"I think that would be great, Papa. And what about Ron and Hermione? They were scared to death for Harry, and it was Hermione that finally disposed of that Bludger."

"Good idea. Harry won't feel as cooped up with them here, and I don't think they've had an actual meal with us yet, have they?"

"No, sir."

So Pavel quested for Minerva, found her again marking parchments in her classroom, and asked if she would care to join them for dinner, and perhaps invite Ron and Hermione. She accepted heartily, and thought that a wonderful idea for Harry, and said she'd send word to Albus. They agreed to meet at 6, which would give Harry time yet to finish bathing and dressing... along with a bit of time to set Pavel's bathroom back in order.

Pavel summoned Wilfried and asked if he would be so kind as to provide dinner for six, at their dining table at 6:15, along with assorted refreshments. Whatever was being served in the Great Hall would be just fine, there was no need to go to any extra trouble.

"Of course, Master Konstantyn, I'll be happy to."

"One moment, Wilfried, if you please..." John interrupted. "Papa, may I suggest we serve enough food for 8, rather than 6?"

Pavel looked confused a moment, "Of course, if you like, son. Have we more guests I'm forgetting?"

"No, sir, not at all. It's just... well, clearly you've never observed Ron Weasley at supper before."

"Ah, I see..." Pavel smiled and nodded. "Then if you please, Wilfried? _Danke sehr!_ " and the little elf popped away, all happy.

 _And John opened the Study door as they waited on Harry and their guests..._


	37. The Late Late Show

**The Late Late Show**

When Harry emerged, all flushed and squeaky clean, the Professor heard him head into his bedroom and put his uniform and dirty clothes in the hamper for the elves. Prepared for the worst, he went to inspect his bathroom and was astonished to find everything in perfect order.

 _"Of course," he thought to himself. "Just as in the duel with Malfoy, Harry knows how to combine a cleaning and drying spell. It's technically unauthorized use of unsupervised magic... but do I really want to discourage him from using appropriate spells?"_ He thought about this a moment, weighed the "discipline" versus the "spoiling" aspects, and tried to consider the training he was trying to engage in helping Harry know and use the right spells for the right purposes as to his own well-being, self-care, and mastery of magic. He wasn't sure of the right approach on this at the moment, it had been too trying a day. So, rather than speak out of turn, he'd let this go for the moment.

He went out and could see that John had conjured a comb for Harry, trying to persuade him to take advantage of his damp hair to "style" it a bit. John had always taken pride in his appearance, and especially his hair, from a fairly young age. It would be interesting to see whether, over time, he made any headway with Harry's "freestyle" approach to coiffure.

Everyone was in the parlor when their guests arrived together through Harry's door, and Hermione immediately ran to Harry with a big hug, checking on his arm. Ron's eyes were big as saucers as Harry playfully punched him in the arm.

"Hey! I thought you were gonna be 'spaghetti-armed' until morning!"

"Yeah, well, 'Big J' here," pointing at John and mocking Dudley's old nickname of "Big D", "knows a few tricks that Madame Pomfrey doesn't, and arm-wrestled me into a new set of bones. I'm fine now."

"Which! By the way..." Pavel interrupted, "is information that must remain in this house only. That is not to be spoken of beyond these walls, understood?" All three nodded, with "yes, sir's" of confirmation. Looking at the Tempus above the fireplace and seeing there were yet 15 minutes or so before dinner was served, Pavel put on his "mock grumpy" voice to say, "And that reminds me... _Mr. Potter! For your abominable judgment on the Quidditch Pitch this morning, and choosing to hunt down the Snitch rather than attending to the Rogue Bludger that was trying to KILL YOU... You are hereby sentenced to be grounded to these apartments, until morning! Is that clear?"_

Now, since they had already discussed the need for Harry to stay "under wraps" until morning because his arm was fixed, and because he'd grown pretty familiar with the Professor's tones of voice by now, Harry knew full well that this was entirely jest. So he decided to respond in kind, putting on his "whiny kid" voice to say, _"Awww, maaaan! Why am I supposed to get grounded, just because I won the Quidditch Match!"_

Everyone there knew, this was nothing more than a game... So Pavel roared, _"Backtalk!? You dare!? To the corner with you... 30 seconds... now... move!"_

So Harry did his best "resentful kid" imitation, and scuffed his way to the corner right of the fireplace, as a Tempus showed :30 above his head, and started its countdown when his nose reached the bookcases.

This prompted Hermione, who elbowed Ron, and the two the THEM then found corners of their own.

Minerva and John had turned away, heading towards the teapot while this little drama played out. Pavel turned to Minerva in mock helplessness, throwing up his hands... "You see this? You see, Professor McGonagall? What a man must deal with in his own house... insurrection... revolution... collective rebellion?"

Calmly Minerva turned towards him, stirring her tea and said, "I don't know what you're talking about Paul. All I see is your picking on a brilliant Quidditch player who did his House proud in today's match. But... your house... your rules. I'll not contradict a man with his own family."

At this Harry could not keep from laughing out loud, prompting Minerva to add, "I don't remember inviting your commentary, Mr. Potter."

"No, ma'am. Sorry..." as his buzzer went off and he turned. "Professor, may I leave my corner now?"

Pavel just laughed, saying, "You may as well, for all the good it is doing you!" and he sat down near the fire in a comfortable chair.

Ron and Hermione had released themselves as well, and Harry shot them a conspiratorial look... as he took a few quick steps towards the Professor and jumped up on his lap, beginning to wrestle with him. For whatever reason of mass hysteria gripped them, Ron and Hermione joined in... They didn't knock him to the ground or try to hurt or injure in any way, and it wasn't exactly tickling. But it was rather like being set upon by a litter of squirming puppies. Paul would push them off, by turns and they'd just jump back in.

It seemed to be just a giant release of tension. Everyone had been frightened to death this morning, and wound tight as a spring all afternoon. It was as if all those springs just unwound in a heap there jumping on him. _John laughed watching, and mind-spoke to Minerva, "that hasn't happened to him in 20 years, Auntie."_

 _She replied in kind, "I think he can use a bit more hugging, myself." and John just smiled_.

"Stop! My dignity! Vot do you tink you are doingk?" Paul's accent thickened, as the children cheerfully ignored him. "Professor McGonagall... a little help if you please?" he shouted. "Control your vyld Gryffindors!"

Minerva just laughed and said, "I'm sorry... I don't see a thing, Professor!"

"Oh REALLY! THAT's how ve're goingk to play this, eh? All RIGHT den!" and his wand shot into his hand, as he managed to free his cuff... and with the briefest of waves... _"Whoosh"_... he was suddenly being badgered by three very small bluebirds.

At first they were on him, then they backed off and hovered a bit staring at one another... then they started to fly around the room separately, then in formation. Finally, they started exploring the room up high, into all the little nooks and crannies normally inaccessible to small children. Suddenly they found themselves playing "tag" flying wildly through the apartment.

"Now! Children, come here and land in front of me a moment..." And obediently they did so. He waved his wand again, and they became chipmunks instead. "Now... go play until dinner, and try not to make any mess! If Professor McGonagall 'can't see a thing' then she can't be seeing me punish you by transfiguration. Now GO! And behave yourselves. Return when the food arrives, then wash up and we shall eat!" The three chipmunks chittered what was probably _"Yes, sir..."_ forgetting that they could not be understood except by another chipmunk... and skittered off into Harry's room.

The three adults sat comfortably together waiting for dinner, and discussing all the day's happenings, while the children happily played in Harry's room as chipmunks.

* * *

Ultimately, the chipmunks washed up, sat down, and settled in to dinner. Whether it was the transfiguration, mugging Professor Konstantyn, the Quidditch match, or Harry's near miss today... they could hardly settle down to acceptable table manners and inside voices. John had flashed a cautionary glance or two, and surprisingly, even Papa finally had to call for silence and have a word.

"Children? This is unacceptable. We have a dinner guest and if you don't settle down I'll have to excuse you from the table. Now... what's the matter this evening?" His voice wasn't angry, but more perplexed, while conveying a clear note of warning. He actually wondered if, eating in the Great Hall amidst all that din so often, they'd really lost track of civilized table manners.

They settled more or less immediately. "I don't know, sir," Harry answered. "I guess it's just been such a crazy day. Hard for me to sit still, to be honest."

Pavel smiled, "I can understand that, son. Let's just try until dinner's finished, then you can all go play in your room if you want, and make all the noise you need to. OK?"

"Sounds good, sir."

"I have a question, Papa," John changed the subject. "I've been wondering, how did that spell harm Harry's arm, if his suit was active?"

"I've wondered that myself, John," Pavel answered. "And I checked even while Harry was still flying, the suit was definitely active." Then Pavel took a moment to explain to Minerva and Harry's friends, "Harry wears two pieces of armor no one knows about... well, perhaps Ron does, since they share their room. One is a fighting vest, that is warded and enchanted to protect from a variety of physical injuries. The other is a 'suit' worn beneath all his clothes, that is enchanted to protect against a wide spectrum of spell damage. That, and his runed medallion, were what prevented him from being kidnapped by apparation last week.

"So, John asks a fair question. Harry was hurt by Professor Lockhart's spell today, so, did the suit fail? I've thought about this, and two thoughts occur to me. One, the suit is open at the cuffs and does not protect the hands or wrists fully. This is on purpose so that nothing interferes with the wizard's hands or contact with your wand. The suit is a 'spell damper', and that would not be good if it interfered with the will or passion passing from the wearer into their own wand. The bone spell was cast at his arm, via his hand... so there would be a minimum of suit damping at that point. The second thing I realized was... the spell wasn't an 'attack' spell. It was, in fact, a 'healing' spell. It was the practitioner, his inability to form a clean _imago_ and intention, that caused the spell failure. The suit may not have 'recognized' any danger, enough to trigger. So just let the spell through without any damping at all."

"And about that 'practitioner', Papa..." John started, with some heat in his voice...

"Caution, son. You tread thin ice there. Why don't we discuss all that later, later tonight, eh?" John was not happy, but he hushed. "And by the way, you've reminded me of something important," Pavel continued. "Harry, please slide your sleeve up, will your suit to appear, and offer that arm to Professor McGonagall, will you please?" Harry complied. "Now, Professor McGonagall..." he said, drawing his wand, as Harry willed the silvery blue sheen of the fabric to appear, "would you please grasp Harry's arm there, over his sleeve?" As she did so, Pavel muttered an incantation and golden light bathed her hand and Harry's arm from his wand. When finished, he asked Harry to turn to John, that they do the same thing. Once finished, Pavel thanked them and put his wand away. "Now, Harry can side-along apparate with either of you, and the suit will recognize either of you as it recognizes me, and will not interfere with any spell you cast on Harry."

By now, the meal had progressed to pudding, and conversation had worked its way around to Quidditch in general and today's game in particular. When all were finished, the children asked to be excused to go play in Harry's room. That was fine, and Minerva banished the dishes back to the kitchen, as the Professors retired to the parlor with coffee and tea. Pavel caught Minerva up on all the new information and what was going on in Bucharest. He would feel much better when they'd retrieved all the information they could from their three prisoners.

Minerva mentioned that the next day was the first trip into Hogsmeade for the 3rd years and older, so she would probably be busy cat-herding for the day.

"Cat-herding?" Pavel wondered aloud.

"Yes," Minerva laughed. "Trying to keep track of dozens of students on a free day in Hogsmeade, is like trying to herd cats!"

"Ah! Cat-herding, I see!" Pavel remarked, as he asked if she thought there would be any problem with taking the children to his home for the day, in the Ukraine? They could return by suppertime, but he felt a growing sense that Petrov was wanting to make a move, and he'd just feel better with Harry out of the line of fire until they had that new information from Oxsana and could go after Petrov. He'd thought perhaps just going home for the day, having lunch or a picnic outside if the weather was fine... might keep the children safe and amused at the same time. Minerva thought that was a great idea, and was happy to consider this a "field trip" for purposes of the permission slips she already had on Hermione and Ron.

"Well, Harry has had to do a lot of healing today, not to mention taking quite a beating just in the normal course of play, so I'm going to ask him to get ready for bed. His friends can stay til 8:30 or so, but they'll still have to get up early for Professor Snape tomorrow, so an early night may be a good idea. Let's ask if they'd like to go tomorrow..."

"Children, would you come out a moment? I'd like to speak with you."

The Trio bounded from Harry's room, and settled in front of the fireplace to see what the Professor wanted.

"Would you be interested in accompanying John and me to our home tomorrow for lunch and just a day to relax? We can floo there, and floo back before supper. Is your schoolwork all prepared for next week?"

They nodded as he got a congregate, "Yes, that would be great, Professor!" from all three of them.

"Do you have cold weather clothes, like for snow?"

All nodded.

"All right then, I've gotten permission from Professor McGonagall for you to go. Why not play for half an hour more or so, then go home about 8:30, and Harry you go to bed... you need a bit extra sleep with the healing today and all. And we can go right after your detention tomorrow morning."

Harry had almost forgotten about that. _"Detention?"_ in whiny voice. "Professor? Really? Do I have to go to detention in the morning? Aren't I like... sick? Or injured with a broken arm? Or something? _Tired_... that's it! With all the healing and that I'll be too tired? Wouldn't that work?"

Pavel just smiled, saying, "Well, Harry? Are any of those things true? That is, do you feel incapable of performing tomorrow morning's detention for any of those reasons? If you tell me you do, I shall write the appropriate note to excuse you. However, bear in mind, that excuse will only add a day to the detention at the end. You will still perform 30 days of detention, so it's only a postponement. And Hermione and Ron will still be there with or without you. And... a house rule here... _if you're "too sick to work, you are too sick to play"_ , and we will stay home rather than go to my house. So, it's up to you, sir. Are you unable to attend detention in the morning?"

"No, sir..." Harry whined, in a rather... 'I want to kick the cat' tone.

"Very well then. Go play for another half hour or so, then say goodnight to your friends, and get dressed for bed. All right, everyone?"

"Yes, sir. And thank you for inviting us tomorrow. Sounds like it will be fun," Hermione said.

"I think it will be. That's the plan anyway," and with that the children retired back to Harry's room. Before very long, 8:30 had come and Hermione, Ron, and even Minerva said their "Goodnights", as everyone looked forward to tomorrow. Harry acted just the tiniest bit sullen, feeling a mite picked on as he was sent off to change and get ready for bed.

At 9:00, Pavel knocked on Harry's doorway and asked if he could enter. Harry, a bit surprised, admitted him gladly and obeyed the Professor's gesture that Harry get into bed. "Would you like a story, to fall asleep?" Pavel asked. This was totally unheard of for Harry, and he nodded enthusiastically. "All right, take your glasses off and settle into your blankets," Pavel said, as he brought a chair over alongside the bed, "and I shall tell you the tale of Temüjin, a little barbarian boy who became one of the greatest kings of all time. _Vonce upon a time.._." as his accent returned a bit stronger reciting the early history of Ghengis Kahn. The boy was asleep within minutes, as Pavel tenderly smoothed his hair saying, "Rest well, my little one," and left silently.

* * *

John and Pavel were sitting at the fireplace quietly chatting two hours later when _Harry's mind-voice entered both their heads saying, "I am just fine, but please come in here_ silently _. I have a visitor... and you probably want to talk to him."_

Both wizards swallowed down their instant of panic as they shifted into an alternate dimension to leave no sensory trail, and blinked into Harry's room... John with his back to the window, Pavel with his back to the door. Before them, they saw and heard a small pathetic house elf standing on Harry's bed, engrossed in conversation. The Konstantyn's picked it up at...

"It was you. You stopped the barrier from letting Ron and me through..."

"Indeed, yes sir," the little elf nodded.

"You nearly got Ron and me expelled."

"At least you would be away from here. Harry Potter must... go... home! Dobby thought his bludger would be enough to make Harry Potter see, that...

"YOUR bludger? YOU made that bludger chase after me?"

Dobby nodded, "Dobby feels most aggrieved, sir. Dobby had to iron his hands..." as the little elf displayed his blistered digits.

"You better clear off before my bones come back, Dobby. Or I might strangle you!"

He leapt off the bed onto Harry's floor, as Harry arose, feeling about as his toes sought out slippers. "Dobby's used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home."

As the two of them stood there looking at one another, and Dobby grabbed on to the foot of Harry's bed, Harry said, "I don't suppose you could tell me WHY you're trying to kill me?"

"Not KILL you, sir. NEVER kill you! Dobby remembers how it was before Harry Potter triumphed over He Who Must Not Be Named. We House Elves were treated like vermin, sir. Of course, Dobby is STILL treated like vermin..." and the little pathetic elf, wrapped in what appeared to be a teatowel, began sobbing and crying pathetically... until he blew his nose in the neck of his garment.

Harry wrinkled his nose as he asked with some disgust, "Why do you WEAR that thing, Dobby?

"This, sir? 'Tis a mark of the House Elves' enslavement. Dobby can only be freed if his master presents him with clothes." When a noise outside startled Dobby, who hopped again up onto Harry's bed. Dropping his voice to a more conspiratorial tone, and beckoning Harry closer, Dobby began, "Listen... LISTEN... Terrible things are about to happen at Hogwarts. Harry Potter must not stay here, now that history is to repeat itself."

"Repeat itself?" Harry whispered. "You mean this has happened before?"

The little elf screeched with dismay, "Erchhh! I shouldn't have said that! BAD Dobby!" and he grabbed a bottle of Harry's nutritional tonic from his nightstand, and began pummeling it into his forehead in self-punishment, as Harry tried to interrupt him with a number of commands to stop it.

Harry relieved Dobby of the bottle, grabbed him by the front of his teatowel, and said, "Tell me Dobby, when has this happened before? Who's doing it now?"

Dobby stroked Harry's hand affectionately as he said, with worried eyes, "Dobby cannot say, sir. Dobby only wants Harry Potter to be SAFE!"

"No, Dobby, tell me... who is it?"

Dobby looked around and raised his right hand to snap his finger and blink from Harry's grasp in a puff of smoke...

But in the instant before he could do that, Pavel emerged from the shadows, wand drawn, and commanded "HOLD!" as a flash of brilliant white light shot from the wand tip to surround Dobby.

The little elf was frozen in place, as though hit with "Petrificus Totalis", but Pavel had issued the command through the Prime Arcanum. He had commanded Dobby's disconnection through the very source code of magic itself. This was not something he commonly did, because it could have complex side-effects, but he knew that the magic of House Elves worked differently from typical magery, and clearly Dobby could circumvent the security he had in these apartments over Harry. He needed to stop Dobby, contain Dobby, and interrogate Dobby. But he needed to do it ever so gently.

John and he walked over to Harry and Dobby, as Harry was now supporting Dobby upright on his bed. Pavel pondered matters for a few moments, then instructed Harry to carry Dobby out with them to the parlor. He had Harry sit on the couch, and continue to support the frozen Dobby, while he and John took seats in comfortable armchairs. Pavel then "sealed" the area, casting a shielding barrier of pure Prime in a shell surrounding the walls, floor, ceiling, and an invisible partition behind the couch, separating their parlor from the rest of the quarters. Once he was certain that Dobby could not escape, he pointed his wand at Dobby again, saying _"Libera te Ipsum"._ _He mind-spoke to both Harry and John saying, "he will panic and dash about. Sit still, and he will calm down. We do not want to frighten him,"_ and they both nodded. _  
_

Finding that he could again move, Dobby repeatedly snapped his fingers, but no spark nor smoke came. He then cried out in a moment of panic and tried to run away, bouncing off walls, invisible barrier, and even from the fire floo itself. He cried out in more fear, standing in the middle of the floor rapidly swiveling his head left and right like a trapped animal.

"How?" Dobby exclaimed breathlessly, "How is this possible? You are a human wizard! This is impossible!"

"Dobby," Pavel spoke calmly and gently, "please try not to be afraid. I owe you a great debt of gratitude."

Dobby did not expect those words, or that gentle voice. He stopped his frantic panic for a moment.

"You? Owe Dobby?" he repeated in wonder.

"I do, my little friend. I can see now that you have done everything you could imagine, to protect Harry. Thank you very much. Now please be at peace. I would like to speak with you, there are things I need to know, to continue to protect Harry..." and he was interrupted by the wave of fear that again flowed over and from the little elf. "Please don't be afraid. I know you are a bonded House Elf. I know you cannot... MUST not... betray your master. And I will not ask you to. In fact, I'm going to make things much easier for you, to do what you WANT... to protect Master Harry... AND to do what you MUST... serve your bound house. All right? Please calm yourself. If it makes you feel better to sit next to Master Harry, please do so."

Again, just as at the Dursley's house, so long ago it seemed, Dobby was overcome by being asked to "sit" by a wizard. He began to cry, and muttered, "asked to sit by a wizard... again!"

Harry had to smile as he took Dobby's hand and said, "See, I told you..." and gradually Dobby stopped crying. Harry said, "Dobby, you can trust all of us. We will not hurt you, and we don't want you to be hurt or to hurt yourself anymore, ok?" Sniffling, Dobby nodded.

Pavel summoned a teatray with tea, cocoa with biscuits to the coffee table in front of Harry, _mind-speaking to him to pour Dobby a cup of tea with sugar, and a cocoa for himself._ Harry complied, and watched with astonishment as Dobby could barely bring the cup to his lips.

"Harry?" Pavel spoke, "Dobby has sworn some very powerful oaths of service to his master and his house. He cannot disobey a command of his master, his body will not allow him to do this. This is what is happening when Dobby says he 'cannot say'... he is literally correct. But, Dobby CAN do things contrary to the WILL of his master... but when he does such things, he MUST punish himself. Generally as his master would punish him. Isn't that right, Dobby?" Dobby nodded, astonished that a wizard knew such things. "So, Dobby... AND Harry... if you don't mind, only I am going to ask questions from here, because I believe I can do this without Dobby having to hurt himself, or disobeying his master. Is that all right with you, Dobby? I am seeking ways to help Harry be more safe."

Dobby, frightened though he was, thought a moment, then nodded with resolution. "For Harry Potter? Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Dobby. First of all, I have good news for you. You need not continue trying to get Harry Potter to go home. Harry is now bonded with me as my heir and apprentice, and I am bonded to his care and protection. He is as my son to me, and this is my other son, John, who is equally so dedicated to Harry. Harry Potter, here with us, is vastly safer than he is at Privet Drive. Do you understand this?"

"Mmmmm..." Dobby wrung his hands a bit and looked around nervously as if afraid the walls were watching them. "If you say so, sir," he answered politely.

"Dobby," Pavel smiled, "I am so very grateful for your care of Harry! John and I will do something to help you feel assured I speak the truth, that we'd normally never do. You have what we call 'mage sight' in a broad spectrum. John and I will show ourselves to you as we are for a moment. Harry will not see most of this, but you will," so saying, he and John stood up, spread their arms out wide, as both quietly said, "Ecce!"

Harry only saw the two of them begin to glow that same golden hue as when they worked some unusual magic. But Dobby... his hand trembled as Harry quickly relieved him of his cup and saucer... Dobby's bulbous eyes bugged out very wide indeed, as he smiled with a huge indrawn breath. He then leapt to the floor, fell to his knees, and bowed his head to the ground with a reverential... "Masters... I had no idea. Forgive me!"

Pavel rushed over to kneel before Dobby, "No, no, little friend. There is nothing to forgive. We are in YOUR debt. We just wanted you to be free of fear for Harry Potter in our care. He is safe. And now, when you are with us... so are you," and gently Pavel took each of Dobby's hands in his own, and hugged the little elf into his chest as he lifted Dobby to his feet. "We are but servants, just as you. Never worship power, or those who have it. That's not what power is for, you wonderful elf. Just... don't be afraid anymore, OK?"

"I shall try, sir," Dobby answered, as Pavel walked him back to Harry's side, and quietly took his own seat again.

"Good," Pavel laughed. "Now, tell us all that you CAN... with OUT violating any part of your oath, or any words of your master. What, for instance, have you yourself seen, that you may speak of? Or what have you heard, that you may speak of?"

"Well," Dobby thought with great deliberation. "There are things that happened here many years ago, a secret room, that some are trying to open again."

"All right. Thank you, Dobby. Can you think of anything else you might say?"

"There is a book. A secret book. That can help get it open."

Pavel nodded and waited.

"The book belonged to a student here, but now it has changed. And a student who died long ago, has seen it recently."

Harry so desperately wanted to ask follow up questions. _He mind-spoke to Pavel asking permission. Pavel responded in kind, "No, Harry. If you ask something he is not permitted to answer, and he even 'desires' to break his oath, he will have to punish himself. Interrogating a bonded house elf, especially one as brave and dedicated as Dobby, must be done with extreme care. Please, for now, just watch and listen."_ And Harry was fine with that, not wanting to see Dobby hurt, or hurt himself.

"All right, Dobby. That's very helpful. Now, is there any other clue that you are permitted to give us, that can help us protect Harry Potter with you?"

Dobby thought... sipped his tea... thought again... then jumped up in joyful epiphany! "Yes! I cannot tell you who my Master is, because to tell you that he is at the center of this plot with the book would be to betray his secrets! But I can tell you this... that my bludger today nearly injured his son, just as it was attacking yours." And Dobby smiled a gorgeous grin.

"Thank you, Dobby. Thank you very much. I gather that's all you can say, yes?" Dobby nodded. "Very well then, shall we see Master Harry to bed, and you can sit with him a few minutes before you return home?"

"Oh, Dobby would like that, sir. Dobby would like that very much!"

All rose, and walked towards Harry's door, and as Dobby crossed the threshold into Harry's room, a low-volume high-frequency hum seemed to come from Harry's desk, or the bookshelf above it. Everyone turned that direction, and as Dobby approached the desk the sound got louder. When Pavel gently pulled Dobby back a bit, it got softer. Pavel motioned for everyone to stand still as he approached the shelf and almost laid his hand on the little black leather blank copy book, that Harry had absent-mindedly stuck in his pocket last Wednesday, and forgotten to turn in to Mr. Filch. Apparently, the house elves had found it in Harry's soiled laundry, and put it up here when they took out the wash.

As Pavel removed it from the shelf carefully using his wand, not to make any personal connection with it, Dobby's eyes opened hugely wide in expression of utter shock, as he pointed to the book, and drew breath to speak.

Pavel shouted at him, _"Dobby! Say nothing_! You don't have to, and there's no need to be punished. I understand." And Dobby quickly put both his hands tightly over his mouth so he did not accidentally speak. "Dobby, you are a fine and loyal elf, with a noble heart. You have our undying gratitude. Now, you go sit with Master Harry as he settles down, and pop on home when you're ready. We will take care of this." And he and John left the room heading for the Study, as Dobby tucked Master Harry in to bed.

 _In just a moment, before Harry was sleepy yet, Pavel mind-spoke to him, "Harry, please show me how this came into your possession?" And Harry replayed the simple memory of cleaning up the Girl's Lavatory and putting the book in his pocket. After that, he'd forgotten all about it. "Thank you, Harry, now try to sleep please. Morning is headed this way before long."_

Pavel sealed what he could clearly sense was a dangerous powerful artifact, into a Stasis Box, and resolved to investigate this further with Albus tomorrow. For tonight, he and John needed rest, as did Harry. He smiled, thinking of Dobby and how determined the little elf was to guard Harry from harm.

 _"We'll have to find some way to free him," he thought, as he banished their dirty dishes, checked that Harry was asleep and Dobby gone, and closed up the house for the night. Indeed, morning would come soon, but perhaps tomorrow at home would be a refreshing change of pace. T'was sincerely to be hoped!_


	38. All Downhill from Here

**All Downhill from Here**

At 6:00 a.m. the Tempus alarm hadn't even gone off yet, as John sat on the edge of Harry's bed, saying, "Wake up, Squirt. Time to get moving! Here, I've got some juice for you."

Harry was NOT amused to find his rest disturbed 10 minutes earlier than it had to be. Some mumbled objections were raised, as Harry reached for his glasses... which didn't seem to bother John in the least. Eventually Harry got both eyes to focus on John at the same time, and deeply resented John's good humor. He did, however, appreciate the pumpkin juice that was handed to him.

"There you go, now, go take a quick shower and get dressed. We've to places to go, things to see, and people to annoy today!"

"Shower?" Harry whined. "I took a shower last night, why one this morning? I should be able to sleep in some more. It was a late night last night! Where's the Professor, anyway?"

"Shower, Squirt! Now! You can't hold on to your _'I already showered'_ credit through a transformation into Bluebird, and Chipmunk. I'm not even going to ASK what you flew or crawled through on your adventures. So go soak your head... and you can use the Magical function, so I don't waste sympathy on an investment of 90 seconds. Just suck it up! It indeed WAS a late night last night, so I've doctored that juice and bolstered your metabolism just before I woke you, so that you've had a full and restful night's sleep, and when you quit griping about being up, will find you feel terrific. Papa is out flying at the moment, checking the boundaries and Forest... which he does EVERY morning for the hour before sunrise. Normally, I'd be out there too. But this seemed more fun for today. If you'll get a wiggle on, there's some cocoa and croissants on the table I might share with you. But not unless you're dressed and ready to go so..."

"Say no more!" Harry exclaimed, throwing the bedcovers off and grabbing his clothes for the shower. "I'll be right with you."

"Good!" John called, at Harry's retreating back. "And don't forget this bed has to be made before you leave the room for the day!"

"I won't forget!" came Harry's voice sounding distant as the bathroom door slammed.

John laughed taking Harry's empty juice goblet out with him to the table. Looking back at Harry's bed he considered "waving it made", but resisted the impulse. It may feel like Papa had a lot of rules, but he didn't really. This, however, was one of his "pet peeve rules", you had to have your bed made and room neat when you left to start your day. He wasn't real strict about whether you did it with magic or without... that was a matter of "don't ask, don't tell". BUT, don't let him walk in there in the middle of the day, and have it in a mess or like you just got up. Consequences were surprisingly harsh.

A few years ago, John asked him about this. They were speaking of John's childhood, his triumphs, challenges, and even some defeats. And John was curious, in the "no unaskable questions" category, why this "room thing" was such a big deal to Papa. The answer was surprisingly well-reasoned and meaningful.

In Papa's view, a child's room was one of the few things entirely in the child's control. And here was a beautiful nexus, an intersection, of five critically important principles in a child's life. Here was a representation of authority, responsibility, respect, obedience, and attention to detail. It had absolutely nothing to do with anything truly significant about the condition of the room. He knew as well as anyone, a room could be rendered orderly with an instant's wave of a wand.

The POINT was that he, by his authority, REQUIRED that it be orderly when a child left for the day. That that requirement was to be honored, respected, and obeyed. And that was entirely in the child's control. That was not to say it had to be spotless every minute. Far from it! During play, even at night during sleep, the room could be a complete disaster area. But it was to be rendered orderly before it was left for the day. To simply "leave that for the elves to pick up", he considered lazy, rude, arrogant, and disrespectful.

The other critical issue to him was the need of any and every magician to understand "attention to detail". This is a lesson hard to teach, and more complex by the year as a child grows up. But this single, simple requirement, that the room be neat in the morning... could be taught as an exercise on attention to detail even to a 4 year old. Maintaining this discipline across one's youth, such attention could become second nature, as indeed it had to be if one took up one of the more dangerous vocations in magic.

Harry was back, dressed, in less than two minutes and again eschewed any attendance by comb or brush, got his bookbag, wanded his room neat, and settled himself at the table for chocolate and pastries. John kept an eye on the Tempus, being sure Harry headed towards his door at about 18 minutes past. From there, he stepped into the Fat Lady's portal to pick up Ron and Hermione, and they were on their way.

Harry was all keyed up to tell them about Dobby the night before, but before he could get much of the story out, they were bursting over him describing the fact that his dorm room had been ransacked and that Collin Creevey was found this morning, petrified on his staircase. They kept their voices in low whispers as they descended all the stairs making their way to the dungeons.

It was a great surprise when they arrived at Professor Snape's classroom, to find him sitting at his desk sipping tea with Professor Konstantyn. They bustled in, concerned not to arrive late, only to stop dead on finding the "reception committee".

Pavel rose as they arrived, "Don't be concerned, children. Professor Snape and I have just been reviewing the developments of the past day. Harry, would you please step this way, and bring up your sleeve. I would like to imprint the Professor for you."

Harry hesitated, _shifting to mind-speak, "Why, Professor? Why him? I know he is a 'colleague' and all that. But he's never liked me, and only recently he's started treating me decently. Why do you trust him to be able to cast spells on me?"_ and Harry's anxiety level was very high.

 _The Professor responded in kind, "I did not know you felt so strongly, Harry. I trust this man utterly regarding your safety or protection, and I know you've had 'history' before this. But I do not want you to fear, or doubt your suit's protection of you. So, if it is you wish, we will not imprint Professor Snape... not until YOU are ready, and trust him enough to do so. All right?"_

 _"Thank you, Professor. I'm not trying to be difficult, I'm sorry. It's just... it's just... well, I don't like him or trust him yet. Maybe I'm just being silly, but..."_

 _"No, Harry. You're just being honest, which is what I always need you to be. I know, I can feel, that if I were to require this you would yield. I thank you for that, but this can wait. You are doing extraordinarily well in building your trust and reliance with us. We will do this when you are ready, not before. For now, just take care of this detention, and we will go to my home when you boys are finished."_

Now, it would seem like all that took a long time of standing around, but in reality the whole conversation happens at the speed of thought, much more rapidly than verbal speech. There was only a brief moment of hesitation apparent to any observer, that allowed Pavel to say, "on second thought, Harry, let's not do this right now. We'll look at that another time."

"So, Professor Konstantyn will pick you all up here at 7:15, and if you don't mind Ms. Granger, perhaps you can render assistance in this 'class project' for today when you finish with your Polyjuice," Hermione nodded. "Mr. Potter, here are your assignments for the next five days," and Professor Snape handed him a list of potions with the page numbers for the text instructions alongside them. "Here are all the medicines being used on any regular basis by Mr. Filch, and I've made Madame Pomfrey an offer that we will provide them for the Infirmary on a regular basis."

Pavel waved goodbye and hollared that the children should behave, saying he would return in 45 minutes or so, and they should wait for him right here. He stepped in to Severus' floo to speak to, then make his way to meet, Albus. From Albus' office, they contacted Minerva who then joined them there, and together they took just a few minutes to catch up all the news, from Dobby, to the book, to the ransacking, to the petrification of Collin Creevey and magical disintegration of his image. All agreed that getting Harry out of the Castle for the day was a good idea, so at 7:15 Minerva and Pavel headed to the dungeons.

The children had worked assiduously on completing the first potion on the list, and Professor Snape approved. Minerva then walked the children up to Gryffindor Tower so that they could change for the day, and then accompanied them through Harry's door to the Konstantyn Quarters. Keeping up light banter of conversation, they wanted to make it as inconspicuous as possible that with the security of even the Gryffindor Tower breached, as indicated by the break in and attack on Collin, they didn't want Harry traveling anywhere without an adult companion. Pavel, in the meantime, took his Stasis Box with the book to Albus' office, opening it so that the Headmaster could examine the artifact at leisure. Pavel then blinked back to his quarters, as John joined them, for the trip to their Ukrainian home. Bidding Professor McGonagall a happy day in Hogsmeade "herding her cats", they waved goodbye and blinked, in mere seconds materializing in the Konstantyn living room in the Ukraine.

The children found themselves in a huge room all lined in carved wood with a vaulted ceiling that was overlooked by a second floor walkway with railing. This central room was shaped like an "X", with an open kitchen down one arm, and the arm opposite having formal "sitting room" type furniture with lots and lots of windows all about. The two other arms of the x were closed off by walls with closed doors.

John pointed to one of the closed doors, saying, "Papa's Study," and pointing to the other "the Library, and some quiet space for studies, relaxing, or crafts." Pointing between them, John indicated... "the kitchen and informal seating," and opposite that, "the Dining area, more formal seating for mostly grownups or meetings or whatever." The children could see, at one of the interior corners near them, a roaring fire in a huge fireplace at the intersection of "Kitchen and Library". There were spiral staircases at the other three interior corners, and John pointed upstairs along the walkway that there were four rooms up there with walls and doors inset a little way down from the balcony overlooking the first floor. John identified them with a casual rotation, "There's my room, there's your rooms, Papa's room, and the Play room. You'll find bathrooms down here, off the kitchen and off the Dining area, and upstairs at the end of any hallway.

"Go on into the Kitchen and you'll find a 'Mud Room' off to the right. You can put your bags up on a coathook there, and you should find some juice and cocoa on the table for you. Have a seat and we'll be right with you."

As the children headed off to do as they were told, they heard two "pops" as house elves appeared behind them. John cried out joyfully, and grabbed one of the elves, swinging him in a wide arc, saying "Misha! I have missed you so!" While another elf appeared to take the Professor's coat and belongings, greeting him with a deep bow and quiet words. John had continued to swing 'Misha' delightedly, causing the little elf to cry out for John to stop, even as the elf himself laughed.

Finally, Pavel interceded, "John! Put him down! Can't you hear him complain? Now stop that!" As John slowed down enough to let the poor elf's feet touch the ground and recover his balance. "Shame on you, Ivan!" as Pavel turned to little Misha, now trying to catch his breath. "I am so sorry, Misha. Ivan has no respect for the dignity of his elders. Please forgive him. On his behalf, I deeply apologize," at which Pavel bowed deeply to Misha.

Misha watched this, and with a horrified look at the Professor, blushed deeply, squeaked in dismay, and popped off into the nether. All of which set John off laughing all over again.

"There you go, Papa! Which do you think upset him more, my play? or your apology?"

"He need not have been upset at all, if you knew how to behave properly!" Pavel growled. "Now, don't make me send you to your room so soon! Go put your things away and join the children for breakfast. I shall be right there!" and Pavel chuckled as he headed for his Study.

'Righto, Papa," John acknowledged as he headed for the kitchen table. As he sat down, a gorgeous breakfast appeared, of sausage, eggs, toast, pierogies, kielbasa, some rolled up crepes filled with meat and onions, bread buns filled with a cooked egg, pumpkin juice, a variety of fruits, and a basket of bread rolls. Even Ron seemed impressed. John was pleased to see that the children served their foods, but did not begin to eat, even when he sat down... as they waited for Papa. "Papa said for me to join you for breakfast, and he will be here shortly, so please go ahead and eat while it's hot. I know there are some things here you've never seen before. I suggest you 'try' a little of everything, and then take more of what you like. You need not finish something you try if it does not suit you," he smiled.

A few minutes later two huge shaggy dogs, looking something like a cross between a golden retriever and a mastiff, dashed in through the Mud Room, where apparently a doggy door - the size of a small pony - must hide. John leapt up from the table as the three of them jumped on one another and rolled on the floor, "Boris! Odessa! How I've missed you!" as they pinned him down and licked his face, while he laughed trying to balance to sit up, and failing.

The Professor had come to the table, unnoticed for all the commotion, and sat down at the head of the table. He addressed John, "Go wash up, and return to finish your breakfast."

The dogs, hearing his voice, yipped happily, left John and started bounding over to Pavel's chair. He simply raised a finger and said, "Ah!" with a sharp edge to his voice. Instantly they stopped, sat, and looked at him attentively. "Thank you. I am now eatingk, and cannot play vit you, but you may either go to the fireplace, to your rugs and lie down to vait, or you may return outside, vair ve vill be comingk to play shortly. If you are good, John and I vill romp vit you a little bit... later. But do not jump on us right now, and please come get the scent of these children. They are as family to us, and are now in your care as vell... understood?"

The dogs didn't quite nod, but they did 'Woof', as sedately they sniffed the children, then returned to the Mud Room and thence back outside. John got up, went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands, then rejoined them as they ate and engaged in a lively discussion of the food items and their contents. Ron discovered, to no one's surprise, that he liked Ukrainian food very much. Harry and Hermione also enjoyed almost everything as well. The children inquired as to their plans for the day.

"Vell," Pavel began, as his accent had become a bit more noticeable since their arrival, "I thought perhaps you would like to learn to ski... Unless you already know how? Do you ski?"

The boys just shook their heads while Hermione said, "My parents have taken me on a couple holiday trips, and I've had a couple hotel lessons, but... no, sir. No way I can say I 'ski'," she laughed.

"That's excellent! As you can see through the windows, snow has arrived with a vengeance. So, when we finish, John and I will make you some skis, boots, and poles; and then we will set up some slopes in the back and John will teach you to ski. You vill notice from the Tempus charms about, dat ve are now two hours ahead of Hogvarts, zo ve vill return at about 8:00 tonight our time here, and get back to Hogvarts for supper. Zo! Finish up your meals, please, and ve vill see about some play!"

* * *

As Pavel had pointed out, while Hogwarts was still in that "fall/autumn" motif of bright blustery days, periodic overcast, and cold thunderstorms, his home, nestled halfway up some mountain slopes in the southwest of the Ukraine, had already committed definitely to the arrival of "winter". There would be variations of weather from time to time up through mid-November, but today had bright sunshine glinting off snowpack of a good 6 inches or more. His house elves had prepared the grounds, so the walkways were clear, the flower beds and landscaping were glorious in their varied shades of evergreen, and there was a lovely seating area out overlooking the downslopes with table, chairs, and lounges set on a flagstone patio. Small valleys ran up into these foothills, with fingers of streams - now frozen mini waterfalls - and pine/fir forests all around. Pavel's home rested on a broad plateau of several acres of flat ground evened out along the mountain slope, with Romania just south of them, Slovakia towards the west, and Poland to their north.

When breakfast was finished, John banished their breakfast to the "Elves' Villa", a smaller house a short distance away where the House Elves resided and did most of the cooking and washing up, knowing they would enjoy the wonderful food, as would the "puppies" - as all called them - after they were finished. All the elves were bonded by their own choice, and well clothed. This was far too "neat" a household to have issues of "house elves' enslavement" by wearing rags.

"John, please take the children to their rooms and let them get properly dressed. I'll be in my study for a few minutes while you all get ready, all right?" Pavel said.

"Sure thing, Papa. By the way, I need to ask you something." Pavel stopped to look at him quizzically, as John dropped his voice to a whisper. "Have you noticed Ron's wand? It's stuck together with cello tape." Pavel frowned to hear this.

"Does it work? He'll need it to learn balance..." Pavel mused.

"That's just it, Papa. It's hopeless. He's gimped along so far, but he can't do anything proper with it. It just rebounds."

"Ah. And we don't want to offend him or the Weasley's by just 'gifting' something as expensive or critical as his wand. Considering what I know of their family, I wonder if that wasn't a 'family wand' in the first place. He may not have had a custom fitted wand to begin with. Thanks for letting me know, son. I'll find a way... Just see what you can do in the meantime."

"Right." John took Hermione and Ron to the upstairs guest wing, and opened the doors off the little hallway to the left and right, opening to beautiful bedrooms with wardrobes, dresser, bed, nightstand, and lamps. In the wardrobes they found ski boots with fittings in their approximate sizes, and hanging up there were bib overalls in thermal quilt, along with vests that looked like Harry's armored vest. Harry was taken to "John's Wing" that now also had a short central hallway, and John's room was to the left, while Harry's new room was to the right. Harry's wardrobe contained the same equipment, but for the vest. "Right, put on the trousers, put the vest on over those, pick out a pair of boots you like, and carry them downstairs with you." The children already had their jackets and outerwear on pegs in the Mud Room.

Taking a moment, Pavel contacted Albus, Minerva, and Oxsana from behind the closed door of his Study. He wanted to arrange a meeting with them at about 1:00 his time there at his home. They could come for some brief refreshments if Minerva could take a short break as a chaperone, meet one another, and make some plans for the near future. He did not feel at all comfortable at this point to allow Harry on his own in the Castle, and it would be too awkward to try to keep him under covert surveillance 24 hours a day unless they did that by transfiguration. He also let them know that he was going to use subterfuge to replace Ron Weasley's wand, since he did not want one of Harry's most loyal supporter/protectors to be so handicapped. With that, he signed off and headed outside to join the family.

John had settled all on the patio and generated some comfortable warm air with a thermal barrier that would keep them from melting snow beyond the boundary, or freezing within it. John had had Ron and Hermione go to some nearby trees and gather 12 fallen branches. They thought they were gathering firewood, until John told them to put them down on the table there where Harry and he were sitting. Pavel walked out from the house and joined them on the patio, standing alongside what was clearly a large central firepit.

He called Hermione and Ron to him, saying, "Let's get a bonfire started here, eh? Draw your wands," and he watched as they complied.

John, in the meantime, had begun transforming fir branches into long rods, about four feet long, and after doing two of them, he asked Harry to try one. "Look at the rods I've made, Harry. Picture that clearly in your mind, push your will through both your wand and through the hand holding the branch, and say _"Hic Mutare Virga"_ , and picture the one transforming into the other in your mind's eye. You should feel the energy flow through both hands." Harry tried to comply, and the branch did change, soften, become elastic, but it was not a smooth seamless transformation of one into the other like John's was. Harry complained, saying so, as he continued to try. "Harry, you're doing very well indeed. This is new to you, I know, and it takes practice. Try this... make one end clean and clearly what you want, then starting there, draw the rod through your hand. Let your hand shape it into the straight rod. Use your wand tip to light up the section you are focused on as you move up the branch or rod." Harry did as instructed, and within a minute or two, he'd formed a very fair rod. It wasn't quite as smooth or straight as John's but very nearly so. "Well done, Harry! Now try again with the next branch."

While John and Harry played with their sticks, Pavel said, "Help me make fire here, children... _Inflamare!"_ as both Hermione and Ron cast the spell in unison with him. He already had a flashback shield covering Ron so that when there was rebound there was no danger. But at the same time, he had one finger of flame flash out towards Ron's wand hand as he cast a soundless _"Expelliarm_ _ _u_ s!"_ sending Ron's broken wand tumbling off into the fire, now blazing merrily. All three of them took a startled step backwards as Pavel began to apologize profusely. "O Ron! I am SO sorry... that was entirely my fault! O dear, well, we can't take you back to school wandless now, can we? Let's go take care of that while John finishes getting the equipment ready! Hermione, keep us company?" as she nodded. "John, we're going to Mr. Ollivander's shop for just a moment, and we'll be right back, OK?"

"Sure thing, Papa. Harry and I will stay out of trouble here... promise," as John winked and he and Harry were finishing up the sixth rod, to perfectly smooth, and straight. John then said to Harry, "now watch me again," as he picked up the next branch, let his wand flow light into it as it rested in his hand and said, _"Hic Mutare Paxillum"_ , and as his wand drew the length of the branch across his hand it became a flat plank all the way down to about 4 feet in length. Wider at the ends than in the center, rounded at both ends, it was a ski. Together he and Harry did the same to the other five branches.

Pavel took Ron and Hermione's hands, and blinked them instantly to a doorway alongside Mr. Ollivander's shop. Together they walked in, as Pavel cast a glamour over them that made it unlikely anyone would notice or remember them. He used Prime to dampen their magical signatures dramatically, and kept his senses attuned to any trace of Petrov or his minions entering the general population from Knockturn Alley. He told Mr. Ollivander of his unfortunate accident with Ron's wand, and that there was no trace left to bring him, so would he kindly fit Ron for a new wand, and he would gladly cover the expenses. Ron could barely contain his excitement, as his had indeed been a 'family wand' hand me down. The Weasley family kept a "wand fund" that they saved up into, to buy wands when the NEWT and OWL examinations came up, and performance could affect their employability. Ron had never told anyone this, but to get his own custom wand now was just... wow. It was probably unfortunate timing to have a joyfully excited Ron Weasley trying out wand after wand in so small a shop, but Pavel presumed Mr. Ollivander must be more than used to it by now. After trying out 9 wands, and a significant amount of mess - though no breakage - Ron had a wand that nearly sang for him. It was 9" elm, firm, with Unicorn Mane at its core. He'd never felt anything like it before, and nearly teared up. Pavel spared him that embarrassment by thanking Mr. Ollivander, settling up the account in a businesslike fashion, and hustling the children back to blink to the patio right smartly.

While Ron had been wrecking Mr. Ollivander's shop, John and Harry had finished shaping all the skis and poles in their raw states. "We have to wait for Papa now, Harry. He's got the Matter skills to wrap the metal, leather, and coatings on everything. I can shape things well, but he is much stronger at transmutation than I - especially changing one material into a completely other material. So we can just relax til they're back."

Harry sat quietly, looking out at the gorgeous view overlooking valleys, hills, and forested plains before them. Finally, he said, "John, may I ask you something?"

"Sure, Squirt. What?"

"Is that how I would transmute my own paddle?" and he kept looking out at the view, without eye contact.

"Yes, that's almost it exactly. You'd start with a little twig, make it bigger to give you the material with _Engorgio_ , then use almost that exact spell. Just one additional word to yours," and sensing the depth of decision Harry was making, he said nothing more, and made no eye contact.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have a little twig?"

"I do, in fact. I have the one you need, from the same wood as your wand. Papa gave it to me a while back in case you asked. Are you sure you want to do this? You're not even in trouble!" John laughed.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'd a lot rather do this when I'm NOT than when I am. And you said, it's going to be up to me whether to take it out or not, right?"

"Absolutely!" John nodded, as he handed Harry the little holly twig he always carried on him. "First make it bigger to give you the material you'll need. You don't need very much."

Harry turned to face John again as he took the twig in the palm of his hand and cast, _"Engorgio!"_. Harry looked at him when he finished and asked, so what's the changed spell?"

"You hold the end of it, that you'll make into a handle, but draw the flat part, 10 inches or so, along your palm saying, _'Hic Mutare Paxillum Meum!'"_

Again, just as he'd formed and shaped the skis, Harry formed and shaped this, both in his mind, his _imago_ , and in his hand. It had a plastic, mutable, consistency while he worked with it... and he gave it exactly the shape he wanted, handle, the flat, the rounded edges and corners, and made sure it was as light and thin as he wanted. When he finished, he showed it to John, who nodded approval, and said if he was finished, just command it _"Ite Domum Meum"_ , and it would go home, wherever Harry intended it to be stored at "home", and he could summon it at will. Harry felt very good, and a little odd, when he had finished and sent that home. He felt like he had just closed a major chapter on Vernon Dursley, though he didn't really know why he felt that.

In just a few more minutes, the Professor returned with Ron and Hermione. They were told to put their boots on and secure them, while the Konstantyns finished up the equipment. The rods were wrapped with leather handles, shod with steel points, and ringed with a snow stop a couple inches from the end. The skis were coated with some kind of resin, colored with differing designs reflecting Gryffindor colors, and fitted with the metal clamps and fasteners needed to secure the boots into their clips.

The Konstantyns summoned their own skis and poles to them, and wanded their boots onto their feet. Once the children stamped their boots into their skis, life felt vastly more complicated to them. John had them just remain there on the patio stones for the moment, saying, "Give Papa and me just a moment, and we'll be right with you."

Ron had been looking nervously down the hill, and noticed that it wasn't THAT far to the brow of the garden, and the downhill slope from there looked quite a bit steeper than he thought he wanted to maneuver. "Are we supposed to go down THAT, Professor?"

"No, Ron. At least not before you're ready. John and I will help with that a bit... watch!" And he and John walked to the brow of that hill, stood alongside one another, raised their arms - again looking like they were conducting, as they'd done in their apartment when they fashioned it - and together they began to sing... to the hillside... to the snow... into the valley. The Professor's baritone and John's tenor sounded like they were singing some ancient folk tune from the region, lilting, slightly minor, but not dark... and clearly the Professor was creating a snowstorm, winds, drifts, spouts dumping new tons of snow out into the slope, while John was shaping it all with his hands and great blades of force, like a giant building sand castles with a gigantic blade. They had built a "bunny slope" of only 5 degrees or so, that steepened just a touch towards the end, and then sloped back up into big drifts they could stop at. John stepped a few paces back from the edge, about halfway between there and the patio, and traced a large circle in the snow around his feet. He then quickly jumped onto the slope, skied it to the end, then traced a doorway there into the "back wall" snow drift, stepped through it, and materialized on the circle near the patio.

"There we go. 'Duck walking' uphill is neither fun nor dignified. Space portals... much more convenient."

"John..." Pavel started, in a disapproving tone...

"Look, Papa, we only have this one day, so, it's not like a week-long holiday with ski lifts, is it?" John argued defensively, but in a respectful tone.

"All right then, let's carry on..." Pavel laughed, _muttering under his breath something like, "going to spoil them, I swear..."_

So, after Pavel wanded the children's clothes to stay warm on the inside, and still cold on the outside, he and John showed them how to push off, stop, fall down, get up, and lean into easy turns. They also showed them how to aid their balance with their wands in one hand with their pole. They gradually helped the children gain confidence, speed and skill, and adjusted the slope steeper and steeper until, before Ron knew it, they had reached the same slope as had frightened him so when they started. At that point, Pavel built a big berm down the hill to stop them if they needed, as John moved his portal down there as well. Approaching 1:00 now, Pavel excused himself to "go see about lunch" and returned to the house to let the House Elves send some hot cocoa, snacks, and sandwiches out to the heated patio, and greet his guests in his study.

 _"I'll be back shortly, John. I'm going to meet with Albus, Minerva, and Oxsana in my Study while you have lunch with the children, all right?"_

 _"Perfect, Papa. But you better let Oxsana out here before she goes home, or she'll be highly perturbed. She'd love a bit of skiing with us right now, I bet."_

 _"I'm sure she would, son. We'll see... " Pavel laughed, as he skied, uphill, to the kitchen side door._


	39. Weaving the Threads

**Weaving the Threads**

Leaving his skis outside leaning against the house, Pavel entered taking off his outside robes, and summoning a simple houserobe in a soft white microfiber. Wanding his feet back into simple jodhpurs, he went to his Study to await his guests. As he sat relaxing his sore muscles, a hot cup of Earl Gray with a slice of lemon materialized at this right hand.

"Thank you, Danylo," he spoke to the ether. "Perhaps a pot, with three more cups and setting? I am expecting some guests shortly." And suddenly a service tray with all requested, along with a platter of assorted danish and pastries still warm, appeared at the end of his desk. Three comfortable chairs moved into a conversational arrangement connecting his desk to the fireplace. "You spoil me, Danylo! I need not even move my own chairs! Thank you." And Pavel could feel... the old elf's smile.

Within just a few moments, the floo spluttered with its typical green neon dust announcing the arrival of Minerva and Albus. Pavel rose, greeted them, and brought the refreshment tray over to a table between them. He started to pour, as Minerva slapped his hand away playfully, saying, "I'll be mother if you don't mind."

He smiled, gratefully sitting back down, "By all means, dear lady."

"Paul, you look very tired. You're not getting enough sleep, are you?" she gave him a long measuring look.

"I suspect in these days there's none of us sleeping overly long, no? Yes, I am tired," he chuckled unexpectedly, "but you may as well blame your 2nd years for that... they've run me ragged skiing since last we spoke."

Minerva's eyes flashed momentarily, "Well! I'll have a word with them about that! That's not what you..."

"No, no, Madame. It's been entirely my doing. John and I have been teaching them to ski, and terraforming the slope behind the house to give them room to learn and practice. And, truth be told, I'd much rather get tired doing such things as this other business. Your children have been the soul of respectful compliance, fear not. And... Mr. Weasley now has a wand that will cooperate with his casting."

"O, Paul. That was lovely of you. Thank you. I know he appreciates it so much," and she laid a gentle hand on his arm as she prepared him a small plate of pastries and put it down.

"I vill not keep you over long, friends. I vant you to meet my goddaughter, Oxsana, who has taken my place in the Protectorate as High Inqvisitor, and who is vorking on this case from this endt. She is wery dear to me, and close to John. She hass been interrogating der prisoners captured last veek, and I vould like to examine that book..." indicating the Stasis Box Albus brought along with him, "vith all of us. She vas very close vith Iryna, also. Her fahter vas as brother to me." Right on cue, the floo disgorged Oxsana Brezynski, High Inquisitor of the Auror and Intelligence Apparat, Protectorate of Magic, carrying a tube containing parchment scrolls, wearing her official cloak of office.

Pavel and Albus rose as she came to the floor, wanding the soot from herself, wearing a stunning smile.

"Inqvisitor Brezynski, allow me to introduce my friends and colleagues, Professor Minerva McGonagall and Headmaster Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Albus bowed at his introduction, and Minerva bobbed her head in courtesy at hers... while Oxsana stepped over in front of them and dropped a most ladylike curtsey. _Pavel was utterly shocked, never having seen her do such a thing before! He didn't know she had it in her!_

"Dear people, Papa Pavel has spoken of you both so often and so highly, I feel as though I already know you," as she walked to each of them and bestowed the traditional double kiss to their cheeks. "Please forgive my being so forward, but Mama Iryna was very near and dear to me always, and... Professor McGonagall, she spoke of you when you were both girls, often. I could always talk to her about things I could not discuss with my own mama, and she often mentioned you. So, it is truly my pleasure finally to meet you both in person. I am so grateful that you and Papa Pavel are working together to bring this monster..." she lifted the parchments she was carrying, "to justice." And with that, she spun off her cloak, sailing it to a hat/coat rack off to the side of the fireplace, and flopped most unceremoniously into the vacant chair clearly set aside for her.

"Vell!" Pavel laughed... "Kisses for my guests and not even a greeting for me, I see..."

Oxsana leapt up and ran to him, "Oh, Papa Pavel... you know better. I have come bearing gifts!" her eyes twinkled with excitement, as she gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek, putting the tube down on his desk before returning to her seat.

Minerva poured her a cup of tea and passed that, with a small plate of pastries, over to her via Albus.

All eyes rested on Pavel as he opened the courier tube and extracted the parchment scrolls. He rapidly glanced down each, and his smile grew as Oxsana tried modestly to sip her tea without reflecting his joy. It was here. It was all here. The memories and architecture of each of the three assassins were here mapped and unfolded on these reports. Finally, Pavel just laid his hands atop the lot of them flattened out, closed his eyes, and everyone saw the words glow and seem to move somehow. When the glow faded, Pavel just sat unmoving for a number of more seconds.

"In the interests of time, and with your permission, I should like to share all our information with everyone here, including John. This is only a little bit invasive, but not very. I plan to link our minds, then rapidly disclose everything I know that we are aware of, which will be imprinted as memories on each of your minds, and any related information anyone else wants to share may be entered into that stream as well. Oxsana, let me admit, we have another colleague whose privacy I cannot breach to you. I can, however, assure you that I have every confidence in his fidelity without reservation. If you find certain door 'closed', Oxsana... I ask that you honor that."

"I honor your will, Godfather. I trust your judgment fully," Oxsana nodded.

Pavel nodded, as he invited John into the mental circle by mind-speak. He had just had lunch, hot soup, hot chocolate, sandwiches, fruit, and biscuits, delivered to the children and him on the patio, so it was easy for him to step away a moment just to stare off into the valley as though relaxing. The "conference" was an amazing event of apparent inactivity. Imagine all the information of this case: all the memories of the minions; all the disclosures of Harry, all the investigations of Albus, Minerva, Pavel, John, Severus, Hermione, and Ron; all the interactions with Dobby; the attack in the Forest; the attack at the game; the memories of Alexsandur; all the leads from John's investigations in Romania; the meeting between Petrov and Malfoy; the mind scan of Malfoy; John's encounter with Myrtle Warren; absolutely everything... exposed, disclosed, recorded, and organized as though in a fast-forward mode, none moving, none speaking. Content that would have taken hours to present in a human meeting or conference verbally, was transmitted and "taught", and truly "learned" in a mere handful of minutes.

There were a few minutes of silence as everyone just sifted through all this new information. Albus contributed what he knew of Lucius Malfoy from discussions with Severus. John contributed his concerns about Gilderoy Lockhart - who he wasn't even _close_ to forgiving yet - and requested that Oxsana do a full background check on him. Albus filled in what he knew about Lockhart. And Albus shared what he had gleaned thus far in his consideration of the Blank Book, which was very little beyond its nature as a powerfully embued supernatural artifact.

When all discussion died down, Pavel said, "I truly don't want to keep us here very long, but if no one minds I would like to examine that book here now, with Oxsana. If she is willing, I'd like for her to enter the book as a mind mage, seeking evidence of consciousness, while I try to force it to reveal its secrets through prime channels. I do not want to 'break' it, but I do want to 'crack' it. If the three of you can keep an eye on us, it is unlikely that anything in there can overpower the two of us... but backup is always prudent."

Everyone nodded as Pavel and Oxsana stood and drew their wands. Pavel opened the Stasis Box and levitated the Book to his desktop, flipping it open to a random page with a flick of his wand. Oxsana wound up putting her wand away as she simply opened her hands over the blank appearing pages, and they began to glow. Pavel was slowly moving his wand in a circular motion forming some sort of "globe" around the book. Whether he was trying to isolate the book from something external, or penetrate the book with something, was unclear. Letters began to appear on the pages, as ink script from a quill. Oxsana pulled out her wand again, and magically wrote "Hello," on the page. The word disappeared, and then "Hello to you, too," appeared in its place.

A number of exchanges happened on the page, in rapid succession... "Who are you?" "Where are we?" "Is this Hogwarts?" "What do you know of the Chamber of Secrets?" "Do you know who is harming the students there?" and the exchange seemed to come to an abrupt end when the book revealed, "I cannot tell you, but I can show you..." and Oxsana put her wand away in her sleeve, and placed her naked hands flat down on the page.

The room froze like a tableau, utterly shocked by her sudden move, as she first stared intently down at her hands as if looking through them into the depths of the tome, and then... she grew rigid. Her eyes closed, and she just stood there like that for several seconds. Pavel's eyes were closed as the globe he was holding around the book became larger and more dense. Then Oxsana seemed to become active again, her eyes opened and she focused again on her hands and pumped her arms once, as though performing a chest compression on someone's faulty heart, and again she went rigid and her eyes closed for several seconds. One more time her eyes opened and she seemed to have regained her self control and again she thrust her arms forward and down onto the book, staring into it intently. This time she held the pose far longer than before...

And right there, Pavel roared, "Oxsana! NO!"

As her face took on a rather wild, feral look of sheer malice, before her head was thrust back and her eyes rolled back in her head, the back arched, and she began trembling violently all over... but still retained contact with the book. She gave every appearance of having a seizure, as Pavel released his shield around the book, flicked his wand breaking her hold of the pages, and caught her body as she began to fall to the floor. He carried her to a couch as she continued to seize violently, and once he had put her down he placed one hand on her forehead and the other on her heart as his eyes closed and he muttered softly in a language they did not understand.

Minerva and Albus had come to their feet, and Albus levitated the book back into the Stasis Box, while Minerva stood by.

In less than half a minute, Oxsana lay peaceful, silent, and still, as Pavel shifted his hands to her temples and continued to chant softly. Half a minute more and her eyelids fluttered open, and Pavel released his grip. He'd been kneeling alongside her, and his face was now beaded with sweat. He had also forgotten to breathe very often, and just sat right where he was to recover himself.

Oxsana came to herself, looked about, saw Pavel and laughed gently as she stroked his damp forehead and stroked back his hair. "I'm fine, Papa Pavel. Thank you." She started to sit up, and he just put a strong hand on her shoulder.

"Not yet, young lady," he said, in a voice containing no humor whatever. "Just lie still for a moment or two, eh?"

"Yes, sir," she replied meekly. "Headmaster Dumbledore? Who is, or was, Tom Riddle?"

"He was a student at Hogwarts from 1938 to 1945, a brilliant, if troubled, student who ultimately came to be known by his self-selected _nom de guerre_ 'Voldemort'."

"Well, that's a relief anyway," she cheerfully shared.

"What is?" Pavel inquired.

"I'm very glad Tom Riddle is not typical of Hogwarts students. Else I'd be very concerned about your safety, choosing to teach there."

"For someone in your position, _malenʹka divchyna_ , you're showing an astonishing amount of cheek. It's time to show me, if you are recovered enough," Pavel said gently.

"I'm all right, and once I show you, I doubt anything I have to say now will make a bit of difference on whether you judge me 'cheeky' or not. I got a full disclosure from him. Just... try... not to be too angry?" she smiled her most charming smile.

"I reserve all comment until we finish..." Pavel said, as the two of them closed their eyes, and she opened her recent memory to him like one of his Dioramas. It didn't take a mind mage, watching Pavel's facial expressions while he reviewed her interrogation, to know that while he was processing a vast store of information, he was absolutely livid at the way it was obtained.

When they finished, Pavel stood slowly, walked over to his desk and settled into chair. Oddly, while it seemed like a vast amount of time had passed, it had still only been about 20 minutes since Minerva and Albus had arrived. Pavel said, "All right, Oxsana, you are fit and able to move around. Let me share with everyone what you have discovered."

Oxsana had indeed "entered" the Book artifact, able to review all the scenes and memories originally recorded there by Tom Riddle... which amounted to the sum of his Hogwarts experiences. From his third year on, he had journaled his innermost thoughts, plans, discoveries and investigations in that diary. Again, all this data was rendered into memory for Albus, Minerva, and John as Pavel inlaid the information in a "mental file" for them. On the "top" he disclosed and highlighted the nature of Riddle as Heir of Slytherin, the Chamber of Secrets and access to it, the Basilisk and the nature of its danger, the death of Myrtle Warren, and his framing of poor Hagrid for the deed.

What Pavel did NOT share with the others, was what Oxsana did upon discovering that a fragmented "ghost" of Tom Riddle currently occupies the artifact. He assaulted her as she absorbed the memory records, and she was fascinated by whatever type of entity he/it was, never having encountered such a creature before. He drew a wand against her, and they 'dueled' there in his representation of Hogwarts. Once she was certain that he/it was both evil and inhuman, she had no concerns of 'ethics' or 'rights', and was able to engage in a High Inquisitor's Interrogation in ways usually forbidden. She bested him in duel, immobilized him, and then "peeled him like a grape", invading his mind and stripping away every ounce of his identity. He yet was a creature of extraordinary will, and forced her out on those three occasions they observed. He tried to occlude his thoughts against her, as he had acquired news of current times, Harry Potter, the state of Voldemort in the here and now, through his temporary periods of possession of both Lucius Malfoy before he planted the Book on Ginny Weasley, and then most recently through possession of the Weasley girl herself. THIS was what Oxsana was so determined to wrest from him, the nature of his recent contacts with Voldemort, and his current plans for the destruction of Harry Potter. Particularly if it involved interaction with Stoian Petrov. She had underestimated his intensity and strength of will, however, and rather than surrender utterly to her access... he managed to counterstrike effectively into her own mind, resulting in the seizure all had witnessed.

Had Pavel failed to break their connection and retrieve her when he did - along with, perhaps, re-sorting her own mind back into its orderly array - well, things could have gone very... badly. She didn't think she stood a snowball's chance in hell of making a case for justification, so it probably wasn't worth trying. John, she mused, would probably be as angry as Pavel, so she could count on no help there.

"Right!" Pavel said. "Well, I think this has been a most profitable meeting all around. I feel much better now understanding the nature of the threat at Hogwarts. I believe we can successfully head off any further damage from that quarter. Oxsana, can you acquire any Mandrake Potion to relieve our currently petrified student and cat?"

"Yes, sir, I can."

"Does anyone have any question, comment, concern or suggestion? If not, I should like to propose a plan." Everyone seemed clear enough on the information so far, and looked over curiously. "I would like Oxsana to take a one week leave from her office and join us at Hogwarts, where she can accompany Harry in the form of a small, decorative, snake around his neck through this week of classes. I am not comfortable with him alone in the Castle, though perhaps with the Book out of contact with the Basilisk, that danger may be nullified. I would like to see if we can use our sources to lure Petrov into a trap at the end of this week. And beyond awakening our sleeping charges, guarding Harry, and carrying on from here... I don't think we need disturb anything else."

"Oxsana, my dear," Minerva said, walking over to Oxsana and sitting beside her on the couch, "are you sure you're all right? That looked like pretty heavy going from where I was," handing her a cup of tea.

"Yes, Professor. I'm fine, really. I'm much tougher than I look, and I seldom find so worthy an opponent. To be honest," she lowered her voice, with a mischievous giggle "I may well be in greater danger in the next half hour, than I was then."

"Speaking softly does you no good at all, you recall, Ms. Brezynski."

"It's never a good sign when he uses my last name," Oxsana commented.

"Now, Paul... after what this young lady's been through, and the information she retrieved, surely you can't be angry at her!"

Pavel closed his eyes and took a very deep breath, to keep from saying anything he would later regret. "All I can say at this point, dear lady, is that my goddaughter and I will discuss this matter privately a bit later, when I have had time to consider everything and recover a bit."

Pavel rose, "If there is nothing else, then? Oxsana, can you summon the Mandrake Potion from here?"

"Yes, sir," and it materialized on Pavel's desk, where she got up, retrieved it, and handed it to Headmaster Dumbledore.

"Lady and gentlemen," Albus said, addressing both Pavel and John, who was still in communion with them, "thank you for everything and we shall see you at supper, I hope. Ms. Brezynski, it has been a pleasure, and if you join us at Hogwarts to bring this matter to a close, I will be delighted to host you."

"Yes, indeed, Oxsana. And I hope if you come, we will have some time to chat," Minerva said. "And just you mind what I said, Paul! _John? Have fun with the children, and we'll see you later on."_

And with that, Albus and Minerva floo'ed back to Hogwarts, leaving Pavel and Oxsana alone in the Study.

Silence reigned until Oxsana couldn't stand it any more. "All right," she sighed. "What's it going to be? Do I report to Ivailo, or go get Papa's belt?"

"For now, dear one, you report to Ivailo that I'm requesting your presence on this case in Scotland for the next week to ten days. I think we have back up operatives enough, though if you want to attach one or two of your best mind wizards to John's team that may not go amiss. What were YOU referring to?"

"You know damn well..."

"Language, little one, there are children among us. What brings your father's belt to mind?" and his face betrayed nothing as he spoke.

"It is just vaguely possible that you could consider my interrogation of the Tom Riddle entity to be... "professionally inappropriate".

"You think so? You think that repeatedly invading the mind of Lord Voldemort... _AFTER_ _discovering that he IS Lord_ _Voldemort_... and being ejected... and then entering a second time... and being ejected... and then entering deeper a THIRD time... and taking his counter thrust so deep it renders you utterly incapacitated and unable to exit your situation... You think I _COULD_ consider that 'professionally inappropriate'?"

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"Is there any other reasonable way to put it?" he had barely raised his voice in the entire conversation. "Oxsana, I'll be frank. Am I angry? Yes, angry beyond words. But aside from that I am truly perplexed. I do not know what to do with you, or what to do about this. That was so far past reasonable risk as to render any such discussion foolish. If I were still with the Protectorate officially, and you worked for me, my hands would be tied. But we are not, fortunately, in such a situation. I must ponder this, and I assure you, there will be a consequence, but at this precise moment I have no idea what that should be. Perhaps when I am more recovered... Oxsana, do you _KNOW_ where I found you? Where I retrieved you? That was a full psychotic break. I could have lost you there, child."

"I'm sorry, Papa Pavel. It's just... I was so close... I knew I could get what I got, and... well, you know."

"Yes, I do. Let's let this sit for the moment. John has suggested that you may like to ski a bit with him and the children. Interested?"

"Oh that would be marvelous!" and Oxsana summoned her equipment to the Mud Room.

 _"John," Pavel mind-spoke, though John was still tied in to their conversation, "bring the children and the food in for a break, and tell them we're going to rest an hour or two, and if they want to return to skiing after that, that's fine. Let them come in, clean up a bit, meet Oxsana... and then the two of you can go off and do some real skiing while the children and I perhaps catch a short nap. Sound good?"_

 _"Sound's great, Papa. We'll be right in."_


	40. Family Gathering

**Family Gathering**

Pavel found himself at the head of a boisterous lunch table as his five children all excitedly traded stories of their skiing adventures. Ron, Hermione and Harry were thrilled beyond words - well, he wished they were that thrilled - but greatly excited to find that they could stay on their skis, turn, stop, and even slalom a bit, as John had put some moguls on the hill for them to practice their edge control with. Oxsana had been introduced to the three as an old family friend, goddaughter, and they just attached to her as "John's sister" as if long lost cousins.

When the noise level had toned down a bit, Pavel informed Oxsana that he had accepted Harry as his Apprentice and Magical Heir. Oxsana fell totally silent, got up from her seat to go to Harry, and hugged him like the brother he now was.

"I am SO pleased to hear this. Harry, welcome to the family and do, please, consider me as sister to you. This is a wonderful thing for Papa Pavel, and for John, too. I know you don't yet fully understand why, but I am so grateful to you for entering into this relationship."

Pavel spoke, "I thought perhaps, since it has been such a busy week, and since I know you are fatigued at the moment both from your skiing and your early rising, we could rest just a bit. Children, and I go to our rooms and lie down for just a couple of hours. John and Oxsana probably want to go outside and ski some of these foothills for a while. Then, if you want to ski some more after a nap, we may do so. Or, it's very possible you may have had enough for the day. You're going to be a bit sore in places you didn't know you could be, by tomorrow. Holding balance in new ways is always fatiguing, and you always feel it the morning after."

The children thought about protesting, but upon his reassurance that they were not being "called in for the day", rather just for a short nap and break... they relented, even as they yawned at the table. Everyone perfectly comfortable with food and calmed enough to rest, John and Oxsana wanded the children's feet back out of their boots - that lined themselves up in the Mud Room - as Pavel and the children headed up the stairs, and John and Oxsana went outside.

Wild skiing with a Space Mage is a fantastic experience. John and Oxsana were truly expert skiers, and they loved the freedom of hurtling downhill at breakneck speed, wind whistling past them, sailing off edges to land on a slope 25 meters in front and 20 meters below them, saved from falling only by their forward momentum. It was primal, mindless, abandoned joy. They slalomed and curled across one another's paths, tucked in to take a lead in racing, then headed off in some new and unknown direction. They had done this together since they were children, and somehow this just returned them to that simple frame of mind where there were no plots, no bad guys, no rules. Just the snow, the wind, and the earth pulling them inexorably downhill.

When they reached the bottom, they stopped breathless and laughing, pulled their goggles up onto their foreheads, and glided over to a copse of trees where John fashioned them some seats, and Oxsana conjured them a warm roaring bonfire. It was just a wonderful, warm sharing as they sat there, neither speaking.

"I have missed you, while I've been away," John smiled.

"And we you, Ivan! The place is just far too dull and quiet without you."

"It has been a very interesting time for me," Ivan mused, becoming lost in thought.

"How so?" Oxsana was intrigued.

"Well, it was utterly unexpected that Papa would take Harry as Apprentice/son, but I've never been happier than having a baby brother. I didn't know how much I had missed that, until he was there. The other children too, and teaching at Hogwarts. I really enjoy this. I think, one day, I should like to have children."

"I, too," as she was momentarily serious.

"Really?" Ivan looked at her, as she nodded. "Well, Oxsana, I believe I should like to have them with you. Would you consent to be my wife?"

Oxsana's eyebrows rose in surprise. This was "unexpected" to say the least. But, to be frank, she had been thinking of the same things lately. There were all the obvious concerns... their lines of work, their schedules, their tempers and their impulsiveness. But frankly, she'd never known another man she could imagine spending her entire life with, other than Ivan. And now that she knew how he was with children, that seemed to settle it. She knew her mother would be fine with this, and it made her laugh to realize that he would have to ask permission, ask for her hand... from Papa Pavel.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Ivan?"

"Yes. Yes I am," and he had reached over to take her hand.

"Then yes, Ivan. I would be delighted to marry you. Of course, we'll need permission from..."

"I know," John laughed. "I know. I'll take care of that."

Deeply and tenderly, they kissed with an embrace they felt would never end.

John's heart leapt, as he resolved to head back towards home. "Let us go speak with Papa."

"All right. Shall we blink, or ski?"

"What say we ski?" he said, with a look of sheer mischief, as he threw an invisibility glamour on them.

"Fine," Oxsana giggled, using her wand to surround the two of them with a violet glow, making their momentum independent of gravity, and reducing gravity's pull on them to 1/6 normal. They now needed to be very careful what direction they "pushed" in, as they would now bound as if "moon walking".

As they retraced their path home, skiing impossible slopes uphill, and hopping over outcroppings they had jumped on the way down, John asked, "I know there was more to your examination of that Book than Papa made public. I only heard the 'general disclosure' description. What really happened, how did you get that information?"

Oxsana did not want to "spoil the moment" with this discussion, so tried to blow him off. "Oh, it wasn't that much actually. You know Papa, how he overreacts."

John felt the "misdirection" immediately. "No, not really. Granted he's a bit conservative, but I wouldn't say 'overreacts' much. What happened?" he asked again.

"Um, Ivan? I'd really prefer not to discuss it, if you don't mind," Oxsana tried to head him off again.

At this, John stopped his skiing, and cut across the snow into another copse of trees. They were about halfway back to the house, and he wanted to sit and discuss this.

"Oxsana, remove the gravity enchantment for the moment, please," as he fashioned a comfortable bench for them to sit together from a fallen log, cushioned and warmed it so they could talk. "Did you do something that Papa disapproves of?"

"Yes."

"Was it something that I would disapprove of?"

"Um..." she bit her lower lip... "Probably."

"Uh, huh." John nodded. "Oxsana, are we teammates on this mission? And do you accept mutual accountability for our decisions and judgments?"

She really didn't like where this was headed, but had no choice in her answers.

"You know we are, and that I do, Ivan."

"Then what did you do? Show me."

"I'd really rather not, Ivan," and she put on her very best charming smile.

"I'm becoming quite aware of that, Oxsana. But that's not what I asked," he said, not being dissuaded in the least.

Knowing there was nothing for it, she opened her memory from the beginning, and brought him in. He saw and experienced exactly what she had, from the time she first waved her wand at the Book, until Papa restored her on the couch and her eyes fluttered open, again returned to sanity. She knew this would not be pretty, so she just sat there utterly still, while he sat with his eyes closed processing it all. Eventually he opened his eyes, and ever so carefully and gently she took his hand in hers and said softly... "Ivan?"

At which he simply stood, hugged her deeply, kissed her atop the head, and said, "restore the gravity charm, and let's head on home." She did so, was somewhat relieved, but knew this wasn't finished yet. In fact, she suspected, he was too angry to respond yet, and wanted to cool down before saying anything. In silence, they skied on home.

When they got back, John headed to the patio, entering the warm zone near the bonfire there. Oxsana followed suit as they both removed their skis. "Oxsana, we need to talk. Please sit down." She did so.

"My darling," John said, "I see no way any reasonable person could see that episode as other than 'unjustifiable risk', do you? There was no reason for that kind of time pressure, it was an unknown enemy with unknown capacities - he surprised you at a critical moment - I wasn't even tied in to all of this for further backup, and Papa was already on task. Did you even consider how unfair it is, how inappropriate your decision, just 'knowing' that he could and would pull you out at any cost... is? Is there anything, anything at all, that you can say that mitigates this situation? If anything, I wonder if you did not take advantage of our having 'company' over, knowing it would moderate Papa's response when you recovered. Is there any excuse at all, any reason this should not be referred to Ivailo for disposition?"

Oxsana paled at the words, knowing that Ivan had, in the past, made such referrals on other agents. She also knew that while Papa Pavel's temper was deeper and more volcanic, John's did not burn so deep, but it could certainly burn hot, and he could be at peace with some extremely harsh judgments without second thought. He never seemed to cavil about what he considered 'just' and 'lawful'. Perhaps that's what made him so fine an Auror.

She sat up straight, and her voice was strong as she said, "I have no meaningful excuse to offer. I saw information before me that I wanted. I went for it, and got it, without adequate reflection on the potential risks to me or to others. I apologize. I am sorry."

"Save the apology for Papa. As for me, Oxsana, I give you a choice. This matter can be referred to Ivailo, or you can consent in mutual accountability to correction at my hand. Should you so consent, this will be rendered without mercy or comfort, so you are duly informed.

"Ivan. You wouldn't... You wouldn't dare! We're partners!"

"Precisely. That is the ONLY reason I even make this offer to you. Now, grant your consent, and I will show you what I dare do. In fact, I read that as a challenge," and there was no part of John's expression that read as humor whatsoever.

"Very well, Ivan. I consent. But be gentle, eh?"

"That, my beloved, would be an outrageous waste of time. Come here..." as gently he drew her over his knee, and passed his right hand over the seat of her ski pants, preserving Oxsana's modesty absolutely, while rendering them null in effective padding. Through years of athletics and martial arts, Ivan delivered open handed blows to his precise targets with the resounding report of a rifle shot echoing off the house and hills. Slowly and methodically he commenced what he called "remedial education with extreme prejudice", using but his hand. Taking five to ten seconds between each swat, he was assured that both the full experience of each was appreciated, and that there was sufficient time to build dread awaiting the next.

For the first minute or so, Oxsana tried complaining and squirming. Soon, her focus was simply to breathe. Ivan never took a large swing or made a brutal strike, but each swat bloomed a sound stinging red imprint, that gradually morphed from the sense of impact and sting, to overwhelming burn. Tears and sobs flowed freely, as Ivan thrashed inexorably in slow rhythm orbiting and thoroughly covering the tender seat of his beloved. No whimpers, tears, or complaints moved him in the slightest as he was determined that she would remember these moments and this pain if she even considered risking her life or her sanity so foolishly ever again.

It was probably a good thing that all the children's rooms and their windows faced towards the mountain crest on the south side of the house, while this scene was playing out on the north. Pavel rested on his bed, windows overlooking the northern vistas, and was napping with but a small part of his compartmentalized mind aware of surroundings and alert for any incoming calls from those bonded with him.

 _In a few minutes, that part of him heard a soft, rather piteous wail in Oxsana's voice crying, "Papa Pavel? Are you sleeping?"_

 _He responded, "Not really, what troubles you, child?" concerned at her tone._

 _"Please tell Ivan to stop!" she pleaded._

By this point, he could hear what was happening, even as far away as the Patio was from his bedroom windows - _that extraordinary hearing thing, again -_ as Ivan paused patiently between swats. This was a very slow-paced, inexorable, lesson. Pavel rose from his bed and looked out towards the Patio, more than a little surprised and amazed at what he was seeing.

 _"Ivan?" Pavel mind-spoke._

 _"Yes, Papa?" he answered, without interrupting his rhythm or looking up at the window._

 _"I'll not ask what you're doing, that's rather obvious. But... why?"_

 _"Ms. Brezynski took actions today that she admits were 'unjustified risk'. Given a choice between referral to Ivailo, and this... she consensually chose this. I am engaged in re-education and deterrence against future repetition. I felt, since the Book was not strictly part of Oxsana's assigned department brief, that we could avoid Ivailo without too much bending of the rules." John had made this part of the mental conversation open to Oxsana as well._

 _Pavel continued in the communal mode, "Oxsana? Did you give consent to this? Informed consent?"_

 _"Yes, Papa Pavel," she whined. "But this hurts! Yowch! And I want Ivan to stop! Please tell him to stop!"_

 _"I see. Well, as you've placed yourself at his mercy, I don't see how I can rightly interfere. I have already checked his emotions, and while he is indeed angry, he is not expressing his anger right now. He is expressing only care. Do you agree?"_

Mind mage that she was, even in such circumstances, she double checked and "read" Ivan precisely the same way. _"Yes, sir," she admitted, miserably._

 _"By the way, sir, while we are on the subject of 'care'," Ivan interjected. "Doctor Konstantyn, I formally request your permission and blessing in asking for the hand of your god daughter, Oxsana Brezynski, in marriage."_

This apparently was the day for surprises in Pavel's life, as his eyebrows raised and he said, _"you have an incredibly unique sense of 'timing' and 'style', my son. Oxsana? Do you wish me to give this my permission and blessing? Do you wish to marry Ivan?"_

Oxsana would have laughed if she weren't quite so currently occupied with yelping or crying, _"Yes... ouch!... Papa Pavel. If the brute will just stop this. I am very happy to marry him."_

 _"Well, then you both have my permission and blessing. You must still speak with Oxsana's mother. But beyond that, just carry on, children."_

 _"Thank you, sir. I'm nearly finished."_

And Pavel just laughed as he lay back down. _"Well," he thought, "there's one less thing to worry about."_ He had known he had to do something about Oxsana, but had no idea what would reach her in her careless boldness. John now had that in hand. Not the correction, though that was more a token of the underlying reality. It was the relationship. You can definitely get "too old, too big, too smart" for "rules", no matter how reasonable they are. But you NEVER get too old, big, or smart for the loving, caretaking, relationships that generate such rules when you're young. Rules only matter until they become the internalized principles by which one makes judgments, as one considers the feelings of others as being as important as one's own. Oxsana did "wrong", not so much because she broke a "rule", but because of the pain she would have caused others at her own needless, or careless, demise.

It was just a very few more minutes, before he heard them coming into the Kitchen. He figured he'd give them a bit of time alone, and then get the children up and see if they wanted to play outside some more, or here inside. This was turning into a very interesting day, indeed.

 _Gently, Pavel mind-spoke to each of the children, "It's time to get up and come downstairs. Have some juice and we can discuss whether you'd rather play outside or inside. Let's meet in the Kitchen in 10 minutes,"_ and, receiving murmurs of assent all round, he was glad that they'd each gotten at least an hour of sleep in the two hour interval. It was now about 3:30 pm local time, and while it wasn't all that "late" as far as sundown, since they were nestled in a southwest corner of a mountain ridge, the sun would "apparently set" much earlier than official time. They would be in the "shadow" of the mountains in less than an hour, and it got both dark and cold swiftly thereafter.

Everyone decided that, as much fun as they had had skiing, they were already a bit stiff and sore. Still, the children wanted to take advantage of the snow and what light they had, so they suggested a snowball fight outside just until the sun dropped below the crest. Then perhaps they could come in and play a game or two until tea was served - which would be at about 5:30.

Everyone went on outside, Pavel taking a seat in the Patio as the children all chose up teams. They decided on John and Harry, versus Oxsana, Ron, and Hermione. The adults were not permitted to use magic, but the children were, and Pavel would Referee, if one were needed. They had 10 minutes to prepare snow forts, buttresses, and snowballs... and then it would be "game on". Pavel had great fun watching the adults trying to "coach" the kids in spells to accelerate their tasks. He had to turn Harry away mentally, as Harry asked him how to use _"imago"_ to form snowballs _en masse_. Pavel just shook his head, saying as Referee _"he couldn't possibly say"_ and referring him back to his partner, John.

Pavel shouted, "Game On!" when 10 minutes had elapsed, and the snow flew wildly back and forth. Pavel noticed a fair percentage of snowballs hitting Ivan in the face, and splashing liquidly down his shirtfront... possibly more than random luck would account for. Pavel had his suspicions when John called out, "Foul! I claim Foul!" and action came to a stop.

"Yes, my son? What is it?"

"Oxsana's using magic, and that's against the rules..." he laughed.

"Oxsana? Is this true?" Pavel asked, laughing.

"No, sir. I am not using magic, but I may have shown Hermione how magically to assist aim when Ron throws in the right area. That's not cheating, no foul. That's teamwork!"

Pavel just looked at Ivan... "I call 'No Foul'... carry on."

John just nodded, as if to say, _"OK, if THAT's how we're going to play this..."_ and walked off whispering rapidly in Harry's ear. Now Harry had been throwing, while John had been making snowballs. Now, the two of them ducked down below their protective snow fort wall, and began making snowballs at a frantic pace. When they had a mound of ammunition the size of a doghouse, John took the forward position and Harry drew his wand. John started to throw snowballs at Oxsana with the speed of an American baseball pitcher's fast ball, as Harry moved his wand with a delicate snapping motion. The snowball would sail past Oxsana, then reverse itself and hit her, quite hard, on her hip pockets. John would throw one of those hard ones at Oxsana, Harry would do his wand work, and Oxsana would yelp. Then Harry would throw two or three snowballs at Ron and Hermione, duck incomings, and grab his wand for John to have another go.

In the meantime, John took another few faceballs, and by the time the snowballs were exhausted, they'd heard about seven or eight 'yips' from Oxsana. It was hard to hear over the laughter of the entire group, none of which could compete with Boris and Odessa's delighted barking and leaping, trying to catch the snowballs in mid flight.

Ammunition gone, everyone wound down, and Pavel raised his hands. "All right everyone! This has been great fun, and the sun is almost gone. Why don't you all go inside and relax a bit, Ivan and I have promised the dogs a brief romp, and then we will come in as well. Why don't you all get changed back into clothes to return to school, you may even bathe if you like, there are towels in the bathrooms, and if you need anything at all, just ask out loud and the elves will take care of you. We'll be back in 15 or 20 minutes. Ivan?"

Ivan nodded as the two of them suddenly transformed into large gray wolves, that jumped on Boris and Odessa playfully, as they all rolled about in the snow with no dignity whatever. John jumped out of the dogpile, entered that playful puppy stance of front end down, tail and haunches high with wagging tail, as he barked and bounced from side to side, daring them to jump on him. Once he had their attention and they headed for him, he took off at top speed angling down the slope towards the nearest copse of trees. Papa ran in hot pursuit, yipping at their heels, as they chased, panted, and bayed with reckless abandon.

It was 30 minutes later when the four of them returned to the kitchen in canine form, and Boris and Odessa sadly whined when John and Pavel resumed their humanity. "Enough!" Papa roared good humoredly at the dogs. "Off with you! Fireplace or outside, your choice!" and they walked rather dejectedly to flop down on two very comfortable rugs in front of the large fireplace in the main hall. Oxsana and the children were still upstairs changing and cleaning up. Pavel took this quiet moment of privacy to suggest, "Ivan, why don't you clean up right away qvick, and take Oxsana home to visit together with her mother for a few minutes. Just be back for tea at 5:30 unless courtesy prevents you. By the way, if she agrees - which I am sure she will - do you have the ring?"

"Yes, Papa," he reached into his pocket and handed him a jewel box. "I've had it for quite a while now. The right moment had just not presented itself yet." Pavel looked on the ring with approval. It was a lovely diamond in square cut, not too big or ostentatious, just of fine quality.

"It's beautiful, son. Your mother would be very happy. And by the way, when Sonya approves, feel free to formalize, propose, and present her ring. You'll be here shortly thereafter anyway."

"Thank you, Papa. For understanding... everything."

"Pfft!" Pavel blustered, growling. "Go wash now, silly boy. You smell like a wet wolf! Go! Sonya will think she's getting a Kossak for a son-in-law!"

And John laughed as he headed up the stairs taking them two at a time.

The children came downstairs, and Pavel waved his wand illuminating the room. There were magical torches, globes, and candles all over the vaulted space casting a warm golden light everywhere. Most of the room was adorned with richly carved wood and intricate filigree work with carved tassels, diamond patterns tracing along the beams, acorn or fruit carvings at corners and supports. There were shelves with brightly colored plates, some carved dolls, and a number of Easter Eggs, decorated with incredibly detailed patterns in what Hermione inquired and learned was actually cut mosaics of straw and grass. The room had the look and feel of a museum, without seeming cluttered at all.

John and Oxsana appeared, cleaned up, and dressed in rather traditional garb. Oxsana in white blouse, brightly colored hairband, brightly colored vest/bodice, and matching full skirt. John in white shirt, dark pants, and red sash for a belt. They each put on their dress cloaks, excused themselves from the group for a bit, and blinked to Oxsana's family home. They expected to be gone a half hour or so, while Pavel offered to play chess or any board game the children liked while they were away.

Harry surprised Pavel yet once again, asking if he would "tell them a story" instead. Harry loved listening to Pavel when he started with, _"Vonce upon a time..."_ and he asked if he could tell them a story, and maybe use a Diorama to illustrate it. Ron and Hermione enthusiastically seconded Harry's motion, and nothing they could have asked would please him more.

So, Pavel summoned his Staff, set it in the middle of the formal Parlor, and began with _"Vonce upon a time there was a very sad little prince who could play a beautiful flute..."_ as he began to tell the story of Frederick the Great of Prussia, and his conflicts with his father and with Austria. Time flew, and he was halfway through his story, when Oxsana and Ivan returned. She wore her ring, Pavel grinned and nodded in acknowledgement of that, as they quietly walked in. The two of them just silently settled on the couch with Oxsana's head resting on Ivan's shoulder - softly seated upon some extra pillows - and listened to the story, until Pavel brought it to a close 20 minutes later.

At 5:30, Tea appeared on the kitchen table and everyone was quite ready to enjoy it. Small sandwiches, biscuits, a variety of local snacks, tea, cocoa, lemon, sugar, cream, marmalade, jams, and flavored butters appeared, along with cheeses and some thinly sliced bread to serve it on. John seated Oxsana, as Harry took it upon himself to seat Hermione, making Pavel smile.

"Please, everyone... enjoy," Pavel announced, as the serving and eating commenced. "I think Ivan may have an announcement to make. And then I shall share some news and we will discuss some plans for this week. Ivan?"

John stood up, rather formally, and said, "Harry, my brother... Ron and Hermione, my dear friends... this day I have asked Oxsana to do me the honor of becoming my wife, and..."

"I accepted," she interrupted.

Smiles broke out all around the table, and Harry got up to give both of them huge hugs.

"This changes nothing of my being your big brother, Harry. Oxsana will just be more your big sister than she already was. We will both be keeping our jobs and such, so I don't know that this will change any plans of the future. And we haven't planned a date as yet, but we wanted you, as family, to be the first to know. Thank you for sharing in our happiness."

Pavel let conversation run its course as foods were served, passed, tasted, and commented upon. Ron asked if they would be visiting here often; clearly, he was enjoying the cuisine. Pavel laughed saying he wasn't sure how often they'd be able to visit in the school year, but certainly they were welcome in the holidays whenever their families would spare them.

When everyone had comfortably served and eaten a first round, and conversation and motion had cooled to a slower pace, Pavel began, "Now, I'd like to catch you up on some new developments regarding things at Hogwarts. Thanks to Oxsana's endeavors, we have quite a bit more information than we had before. I'm going to take a moment and share it all with you using a mind technique that will save considerable time. This will implant the information, rather like a memory, or a file of data you've studied for a test. When I finish, we'll sit quiet for a moment and you can review it, asking any questions you may have. All right? This may feel a little 'weird', but it won't hurt. OK?" Everyone nodded, and Pavel "mind dumped" a summary of the information from Petrov's minions, and the information about Tom Riddle and the Book, including the nature of the attacks, the Chamber of Secrets, and the Basilisk. "A bottle of Mandrake Potion has already gotten to Hogwarts, and by now hopefully both Collin and Mrs. Norris are up and about, none the worse for wear.

"I've had word back from Ivailo, Oxsana, and you are at our disposal along with any of your people you want along, for the next ten days. I have been concerned about Harry's safety in the Castle, especially after the break-in at his dorm room, and the attack on Collin. So, some new safety rules will be going into effect, which will be announced at supper this evening in the Great Hall, and... Harry, when we get back until further notice, Oxsana will be with you any time you are not with another of us. Oxsana will be a snake, a small thin snake you may wear around your neck, your arm, wherever the two of you agree is comfortable for you both, whenever you move about the Castle. As a snake, she too will be able to hear if the Basilisk speaks or is near, as well as the two of you being able to speak to one another. Of course, you may mind-speak with one another at will.

"Any questions, concerns, thoughts?"

"Well, Professor," Hermione began. "I don't mean to be a wet blanket or anything, but this all sounds very passive and risky. It's like, we're waiting on Voldemort, or Tom Riddle, or this Petrov fellow... to do something so that we react. Is that the best we can do? With all this information?"

"Ah, excellent point!" Pavel smiled. "Actually, I have an idea on that. It may take us about a week or so to pull off, but I propose that if they want Harry so badly, we arrange to give Harry to them. Say, Friday or so." Shocked looks, some dismay, adorned all faces but one. Harry just smiled. He didn't believe it. He knew better. Pavel was SO pleased at that. "Harry gets it. It will be a trick, of course. But let us see if we can bait the bad guys in to a place we can control, and end this." Looks of relief and nods all around. "I'm still working on plans for this, but we'll talk about things as they develop, I promise," and Pavel sat back to enjoy an egg salad sandwich.

Given the break in conversation, John cleared his throat and shot a pointed look at Oxsana.

Oxsana rose, prompting Pavel to begin to stand, as she quickly motioned with her hand and said, "Please keep your seat sir," Pavel remained seated. "Papa Pavel, I apologize. I am very sorry for the dangerous decisions I made retrieving some of that information. That was unjustified risk and should not have been done. Please forgive me."

Pavel smiled as he answered, "I do, child. You are forgiven. But you HAVE to know, you HAVE to remember, that the single most dangerous failing any of us can ever have is 'hubris'. The belief that we have no limits. Because we DO have limits, and they will strike us at the most inconvenient moments. Learn from this, and try your best not to repeat it."

"Yes, sir," and she turned so that she could face both Pavel and John at the same time to ask, "is my correction satisfactorily finished?" John and Pavel looked at one another, and Pavel gave the nod to John as it had been his correction.

"The question is always the same one. Given those circumstances, would you make the same decisions now as you did then?" John asked, with a sincere tone.

"Absolutely not!" Oxsana laughed, shamelessly comforting her _derrière_ , grateful for the full petticoats of this traditional garb. "I would not have taken on an unknown assailant in his own space so recklessly and repeatedly."

"Thank you, we are finished, then." John formally completed the ritual.

"Thank you," Oxsana replied, and sat down again, carefully.

Harry was sitting there utterly astonished. _Pavel mind-spoke to him with a chuckle, "It's not polite to stare, son. And close your mouth."_

Harry snapped to as if stung _. "Sorry, sir. But... But... what are they doing?"_

Pavel was sincerely confused, _"I don't understand. What do you mean 'what are they doing?' You know what they are doing, you've done this yourself."_

 _"But they're adults, sir. I don't get it. I'm just a kid. Of course I get corrected, but they're grownups."_

 _"Harry, what difference does that make? They are mutually accountable. I, myself, am accountable. Just as we all are to one another. You've seen John justify his actions when I called them into question. Today, between Oxsana and John, he called her judgment into question and she was unable to provide adequate justification. She chose to receive correction from him rather than Ivailo, and that is now finished. She is less likely to use such poor judgment in the future, and that will make it more likely that she will survive encounters."_

Oxsana was now reaching for some more tea, and noticed Hermione's pensive look, as though pondering a question. "No unaskable questions, Hermione," she smiled, looking rather like Luna Lovegood in that moment. "What do you want to ask?"

"Well, I'm not sure how to ask this without sounding disrespectful."

"All right. Having voiced that concern," Pavel answered, "we will take it as a given that you mean no disrespect. It's just an awkward question. Feel free to have at it..."

"Well," Hermione gulped, "Harry had told us a bit about this whole 'accountability' thing, and consequences for 'unjustifiable risk', but I take it you were 'corrected' by John for your decisions, yes?"

Oxsana nodded cheerfully, taking another bite of ham and cheese toasted sandwich, "Um, hmmm."

"Well, don't you find that... I mean, isn't that just a bit... well, sexist? I mean he questions your judgment, and you get punished for the decisions you make?"

"Great question, Hermione! I'm SO glad you asked!" Oxsana replied. "If what happened had anything at all to do with my sex or my gender, that would be so. But John did not cause me pain because he's the 'big strong guy' and I'm the 'weak sensitive gal needing a protector'. That's not it at all. For one thing, I'm no 'shrinking violet' at all, I kicked your Voldemort's..."

"Hmmm hmmm hmmm," Pavel's cleared throat cut across her comments in brusque interruption.

"Yeah, ok. I..." she paused a moment to find acceptable terms... "bested Tom Riddle in the opening duel handily." She smirked to see Pavel sipping tea with a polite gaze and an innocent smile. "What I did wrong was simple battle judgment, I rushed blindly into a vulnerable position with an opponent of unknown capacity, and even after learning that he had the ability to rebuff my attacks, I persisted... and ultimately... I think the English phrase is, 'he cleaned my clock', and I was incapacitated. And it was AVOIDABLE, but in my pride and arrogance I didn't account for that. Papa Pavel had to enter the space, pull me out, and repair the damage I'd allowed to happen to me.

"Now, here's the important part to know. Ivan... John, as you know him... is JUST as accountable to ME. If our situations had been reversed... if John had done those things, rather than I... then I, as his partner, his accountability teammate, would be just as likely to correct HIM if I felt he was likely to do the same thing the same way again. You see? I would show him no more mercy than me. I would generate the pain in a different way... he is a Life mage, and I am not. But the bottom line, so to speak, would come out the same."

Pavel was very interested in how the children were taking this conversation. Clearly these concepts were quite new to them. And so the conversation continued as Ron and Hermione asked questions about Oxsana and the kind of work she could speak of. Then eventually they all got ready to return to Hogwarts, and their Family Day at Home came to a most satisfactory close.

 _Now, the forces began to array for the upcoming battle. This was always the part of the Diorama that the Professor liked the best._


	41. Countdown to Doomsday

**Countdown to Doomsday**

The entire family of six blinked to the Konstantyn quarters at 7:45 Ukrainian time, 5:45 Hogwarts time. Ivan asked if Oxsana were to have her own quarters, or if he should see about making an additional bedroom?

"You are now engaged, Ivan. Oxsana needs her own quarters," Pavel answered quickly. Both Ivan and Oxsana had the grace to blush. Theirs was a very "traditional and conservative" family, and there would be no "hanky panky" under Pavel's roof - and he actually still used that term without the slightest embarrassment or shame.

Pavel mind-spoke to Albus, informing him that Oxsana had accepted his invitation to Hogwarts, and asking to which quarters she should be assigned? Albus had already taken the liberty of having the apartment next door to Pavel's prepared for her, and suggested that John put in a connecting door between the two apartments. John looked up a bit hopefully at Pavel, who laughed and said that would be fine. John spoke with Hogwarts for a moment, laid his hands upon the wall where they intended the door, and the stones of Hogwarts obliged, parting and forming a doorway just between the fireplace and the corner most often occupied by Harry. Pavel then went to the doorway, fabricated a wooden door in the arched medieval style of the Castle and the jamb, installed it with all appropriate hardware, and opened it politely for Oxsana to enter and put away her things.

"For the moment, Oxsana, you may either wait here until supper is finished, or you may accompany Harry in your anguine form, and get the lay of the land here. Which would you prefer?" Pavel asked. "It will be a bit awkward that you are 'undercover' here and will not be known or acknowledged by the staff. The elves may be counted on to keep your confidence, I'm sure."

Oxsana darted into her apartment for just a moment to put down her things and take off her coat, returning to Harry's side in seconds. "I think I'd like to go with Harry and see what I can of Hogwarts along the way. By the way, Harry, we never asked... How do you feel about snakes?" she smiled.

"I like snakes fine," Harry replied happily. "I've always gotten along well with them. At the zoo once..." and before he could tell the story of the boa constrictor and Dudley falling and getting trapped in the glass enclosure... Oxsana had placed her hand on his shoulder and transformed into a narrow black snake about 18 inches long, and slithered along his shoulders to snuggle under his shirt collar and double back on herself, so that she could just peek out from under his Gryffindor robe.

She hissed in his ear, _"go ahead, you can finish the story,"_ which Harry heard as clear speech, but everyone else just heard some soft hissing.

Harry dashed into his bedroom a moment to look in the mirror and was amazed to find he wouldn't spot her at all if he didn't know exactly where to look. "That's great, Oxsana!" he said in human, following up with, _"this could be a lot of fun!" which he added in Parseltongue."By the way, what do you like to eat?"_

 _"In THIS form? Um, large bugs, crickets, small mice... miniscule rats. Not to worry, Harry, I'll work something out with the House Elves, I'm sure."_

"OK, I'm all set!" Harry announced, rejoining the crowd.

"All right, then. Children, use Harry's door and go on to supper, and we shall see you shortly in the Great Hall." Pavel said, as he watched them head out to the Gryffindor stairway.

John opened the door out saying, "After you, Papa..." as they stepped directly from the living room onto the platform of the High Table in the Great Hall. Seeing Pavel scowl at him for this "gratuitous display", John just laughed with a casual, "Sorry Papa, can't help myself once in a while." They took their seats, reuniting with Albus, Minerva, and Severus.

John smiled with a nod towards Severus saying, "Greetings, brother Snape! Long time no see. How hath gone your day?"

Slowly Severus turned, raising one eyebrow only by scant millimeters at a time suspiciously. "Don't tell me you have another hypothetical question for me!"

"Certainly not, my vespertilionine friend! How suspicious we are this evening. I am but the soul of innocence and overflowing with the milk of human kindness," John answered, wearing his most innocent expression. After which, John simply focused on serving and eating his dinner in peace.

Snape, of course, could barely focus on his meal, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and John to ask him for whatever ridiculous thing or favor he needed for the children this time. And John was not the least bit forthcoming.

Minerva and Albus tried to get some conversation started, and Pavel did his best to add a bit to the animation, but everything just seemed to fall flat as Severus tried to eat his meal without ever relaxing fully, still wondering what John was going to do or ask.

 _Finally, Pavel mind-spoke, "Ivan, is there something you need from Severus that I don't know about? It's fine, if so! I'm just curious if I've missed something."_

 _John exerted herculean self control to give nothing away by his facial expression as he responded, "No, Papa. I don't need a thing. It's just that he is way too easy to set on edge. This is driving him absolutely crazy, and I honestly don't need a thing. I think I could leave him dangling this way all night, with very little effort."_

 _Pavel continued eating as though no conversation were going on, "Ivan, you're probably right, and what you're doing is very clever... but it is also very wrong! Now, find some way to fix this, or you're headed to the corner when we get home. If he keeps staring at you sideways across me, I'm going to explode. Thank you, son."_

 _"Spoilsport... sir."_

 _"Pardon?"_

 _"Nothing, Papa. Are we all getting together at home after dinner? Might be a good time and way to introduce him to Oxsana."_

 _"Yes, I thought so. And it's time to start including the children in our plans as well, so I thought all of us. Yes?"_

 _"Agreed. OK, I can fix this then." John resolved._

"Hey, Sev?" John called, in a low voice.

"Yyeesssss?" Snape's baritone responded, cautiously.

"Are you and Auntie, and the Headmaster free after supper to come by our place for coffee?" The three of them looked over at Pavel and John.

All nodded, as Severus answered, "I think we'd be happy to come."

"Good, the children will be there as well, and I have something of a surprise for you all."

At this, Snape could no longer contain the eye roll, but it was short and discrete.

Now that all students had assuredly entered the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall tinged her fork on her water goblet to get everyone's quiet attention as the Headmaster rose to speak...

"May I have your attention, please. Because of recent events, these new rules will be put into effect immediately. All students will return to their House Common Rooms by 6:00 every evening. All students will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher... No exceptions. We hope to resolve the current situation very soon, but in the meantime your safety is paramount. Thank you." There was a general murmur of discontent, but no mayhem, as students returned to their meals with an entirely new topic available for discussion.

 _Pavel mind-spoke to the Trio, "Please join us at home immediately after supper. Professor McGonagall and others will be meeting with us. We'd like to discuss our plans for this week. The Professor will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower when we are finished," and all the children discretely nodded acknowledgement of the instruction._

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped in through Harry's door after supper, to see the dining table set up to seat nine, as Oxsana delicately freed herself of Harry's neckline and glided off his sleeve to transform back into the lovely blond woman they'd all come to know and love. Pavel and John rose from their seats as the newcomers entered, indicating the four unoccupied chairs across the table from the faculty already seated.

John walked over to take Oxsana's arm, as he walked her to the table saying, "dear family and friends, may I introduce Inquisitor Oxsana Brezynski, who this day has graciously consented to be my wife. Oxsana, you've not yet met..." and Severus rose to his feet... "Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master here at Hogwarts. We had mentioned another associate with whom we were working here. This is he."

"A pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor Brezynski," Severus said graciously, bowing slightly with the words.

"And a greater pleasure to meet you, Master Snape. It is wonderful to meet so many dedicated and lovely people as are here at Hogwarts. I'm sure we will come to be great friends," Oxsana replied.

"Indeed," Snape responded, waiting to sit until John had seated Oxsana, and Harry started again to seat Hermione, but was cut off by Ron doing so, instead.

When all were seated, Pavel said, "Give me just one moment to share all our new information with Severus. In the meantime please feel free to serve your coffee, tea, or cocoa. Severus, if you don't mind, I'm going to implant all the new information we have gleaned, and you may sort it out to your preference at your pleasure. All right?" Snape nodded, and everything was opened for Snape's perusal in less than one minute. Pavel also revealed all the team had come to know of Oxsana, her role, her rank, and her relationships. He showed his singular comment to Oxsana regarding an additional anonymous collaborator, and her willingness not to investigate that. Thus he left the matter of any personal disclosures totally to Severus' judgment as he came to know her.

Severus processed the information, considered the matters at hand, and said, "Oxsana, I take it you, too, are a _legilimens_ , correct?"

"I am, in the sense you mean that, yes, Professor," she responded, knowing that as a Mind Mage of her strength, she was considerably more... but seeing no reason to belabor that point.

"Then, if you are willing, for the sake of clarity and time, I shall open my mind to you as to my role and circumstances, though I will yet screen a great deal to remain private. If that is acceptable, you may find it helpful. Agreed?"

 _She mind-spoke to him, "That would be very generous of you. I assure you, I shall not transgress any boundaries that are clearly marked, sir."_ She shifted a little in her chair trying to find a more comfortable position.

 _"Very well," he responded in like kind, "come ahead."_ And she entered through a "door he held open", and explored his current teaching, his desire to be teaching Dark Arts and Dumbledore's refusal to permit it, his role as double-agent and spy for Voldemort and undercover Death Eater, and a bit of his history with Lily and the reasons for his return to the service of Hogwarts. Through this, he had also revealed some of his history with the Marauders, his resentment of Harry because of his resemblance to James Potter, and his remorse at having mistreated and failed to recognize an abused child until so recently. Oxsana shifted again.

Snape didn't know why he had chosen to be so candid with Oxsana. Perhaps it was knowing how much John trusted her, and that - despite all his protestations to the contrary - he had come deeply to appreciate and trust John as the closest thing he had to a "friend". Or was it her own gentle and respectful way of prodding on a topic, as if asking permission, rather than shoving her way in? Whatever it was, she now knew vastly more about him than he had ever intended, yet he felt confident that she'd not abuse that trust. As Pavel had mentioned to Snape at the very beginning, much of this information was known of Severus in a "dossier" form at their office. But there was a world of difference between "file data" and "personal revelations" in this way. Oxsana was very moved by his confidence. She had no intention of "updating" their office files on this account. She tried a new position.

When Pavel again had Severus and Oxsana's attention, he continued, "Right! Then, let's consider what we must get done this week. First, we have a number of 'loose ends' to tie up as to incomplete information. Ivan, if you can manage it, I would like to know all that our melancholy ghost of the 2nd floor Girl's Room, Myrtle, knows. Especially anything she can recall from her own death, or means by which this creature uses the plumbing. If you need protection, I'm sure Oxsana..."

John interrupted, "Not funny, Papa..."

"Sorry. Could not resist. Also, we now know considerably more about Hagrid and Aragog, and how the poor boy was framed by Tom Riddle. He was here and aware of all that was going on in those days. He was, apparently, expelled in the belief that he was somehow the Heir of Slytherin."

Albus nodded sadly. "Unfortunately, yes, he was. Headmaster Dippet was unable to keep the Ministry of Magic from interfering because of the sensitive politics of the situation. But while they did not have enough evidence to arrest, try, or convict Hagrid of the attacks and the murder, there was strong enough suspicion and 'concern for the public weal' to expel him and ban him from having a wand. I never believed he had a thing to do with it. Although his decision to harbor and hide Aragog in the school lacked good judgment."

"Well, I should like to know what light, if any, he can shed for us on those times and events. And I think the Children here are the best Interrogators on that. He knows and trusts them deeply enough to hold nothing back..." Pavel stated, and as Minerva prepared to object, he said, "I shall wander down to his hut tomorrow, to chat with him, and Harry and his friends can meander down there alongside me... rendered invisible from any other prying eyes. I shall go admire the gardens while the children speak with him. They'll be safe with me... and Oxsana.

"The only other detail I know of here at Hogwarts, that we've not addressed is to help the young lady that Riddle has exploited in his adventures thus far... that being Ginny Weasley. She is a Gryffindor, and of course, your sister, Ron. He used influence much like the 'Imperius' to get her to do his bidding. Even at that, she exercised tremendous will to dispose of the Book and try to escape his influence. Even so, he returned through the connections he'd already made with her, as I suspect it was she who searched your room, Harry. She had no way of knowing you keep some of your things at our quarters rather than there. We need to help her break free of Riddle and recover, without frightening her. Now that Riddle is contained in the Stasis Box, he should not be able to trouble her further. Minerva, you and Albus have known her all her life, have you not?"

"Indeed, Paul," McGonagall nodded.

"Perhaps between you, you can encourage her to tell you the full story, and help her release her fears, guilt and shame? She feels somewhat responsible, because that's how an abuser like Riddle works. They use the lie, 'if you tell, they'll all blame you... and after all, you LIKE having everyone afraid of you. You're getting respect for the first time EVER!' And there's just a small enough kernel of truth to it, that the victim buys into it. I would think the two of you can help her see otherwise, but if Oxsana or I as Mind mages can be of support, just let us know. I think your combined love, wisdom, and a lifetime of trust will be more than adequate, but I don't want to leave the poor child dangling any longer."

While all this had been going on, Oxsana reached her hand over to grasp Harry's arm, and reverted to snake form, slithering up his sleeve to fold along his shoulders and drape, slightly, around his neck. While she tried discretely to make this a very nonchalant maneuver, it was indeed... noticeable.

Pavel stopped speaking, and stared at her... as unblinkingly as she stared back. Which was saying something as snakes, by and large, cannot blink. Pavel's was a very expressive stare, usually reserved for students who chose to enter his class tardy. He would stop speaking, all action would stop, and he would simply so stare at them as they tried to be invisible, creeping from the door to their own desk and seat. He found this a very effective deterrence to careless tardiness.

 _"Oxsana?" he mind-spoke. "I think human form is more traditional when seated in a meeting like this."_

 _"Yes, Papa Pavel, I know. But I'm just more comfortable in snake form right now, and Harry needs to get accustomed to my weight up here, so it seemed like a good time to..."_

 _"Oxsana? Please return to your human form and take your seat."_

 _"Please, sir. I'd just be much more comfortable here on Harry's..."_

 _"I am very sure you would," Pavel said, walking over to the couch and pulling off two good-sized end pillows, and placing them on Oxsana's chair. "But this is my meeting, in my home, and I am not accustomed to repeating instructions. Kindly return to your human form and take your seat."_

 _With a very brief sob, she said, "Yes, sir," and slithered off Harry's arm to coil on the top cushion returning to seated human form with the briefest of winces._

"Paul!" Minerva barked, in her harshest voice, "I thought I made it clear..."

"Peace, dear lady. I did not touch a hair on Oxsana's head. I am utterly innocent!" Paul laughingly protested.

"'Tis not her 'head' that _concearns_ me, Professor!" Minerva's eyes flashed.

"No, Professor McGonagall," Oxsana interrupted. "Papa Pavel did nothing in response to my ill-considered judgments this morning. Truly. Well, other than making his opinion clear... verbally. Which is certainly to be expected."

The children, throughout this entire exchange were trying to look invisible, trying very hard not to smirk, and utterly fascinated... as if they were watching a slow-motion train wreck. John, they noticed, was blushing and himself trying to look invisible, while Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape seemed to have succeeded. They neither moved nor emoted, allowing Pavel, Minerva, and Oxsana to occupy the entire spotlight, with just a little splash of illumination left over for John.

"Yes, well, indeed," as Pavel cleared his throat and tried to press on... "Professor Snape? Do you suppose that given a sufficient quantity of Mangrove extract, you could develop a potion that would immunize people from the potential harm of a Basilisk's Gaze? Say... in enough quantity for us to dose the entire school?"

Harry had never realized how much fun it could be to watch Professor Snape utterly rocked back on his heels. The question was entirely unexpected, and apparently, the answer unknown. He had watched Snape do this to students in class hundreds of times. But it was fun to see it done here to him for a change.

"Professor..." Severus responded. "I do not know. Therefore, I'm going to give the conservative and safe answer... 'No, I cannot.' Now, having said that, given sufficient Mandrake extract I should be able to develop a potion that would at least enhance resistance. But without time to develop a reliable formula, and the ethical resources to test its effectiveness... I would not trust anyone's life to anything I can develop in the short term.

"Now, on the other hand..." Professor Snape continued, "as it seems from the indications of Mrs. Norris, the Creevey boy, and Sir Nicholas that one's 'clarity of vision' is a mediating factor in lethality, I could, certainly develop a potion that rendered everyone's vision unclear, fuzzy, or unable to focus, were that of any use."

"Thank you, Professor," Pavel answered. "The side-effects may be worse than the cure. We'll keep thinking on that. For the moment, I'd like to plan a 'Field Day' this coming Friday, bringing students and faculty out onto the grounds in what will hopefully be one of the last 'nice days' of Autumn. I hope to set our trap Friday, back in the Forbidden Forest where our adversaries have developed such a penchant for camping.

"Harry?" Pavel smiled one of his most conspiratorial smiles... "How would you like to violate Hogwarts rules, break boundaries, and ride a Basilisk? Sound like fun?"

 _"Sounds Great, Professor! When do I go?"_


	42. Intelligence Gathering

**Intelligence Gathering**

Six o'clock still came ridiculously early for Ron and Harry, but as they'd gone to bed with a dose of Dreamless Sleep the night before, they felt far more rested than they thought they would. Oxsana had spent the night nestled in the canopy coverings of Harry's bed, curled up in the reptilian semi-sleep that snakes typically engaged in. As they boys grabbed their clothing and headed off to the showers, she slithered among the garments, and made sure she was not deposited in the bin for automatic clothing. As an operative, she didn't feel the least bit self-conscious occupying the boy's room, just keeping her gaze modest for them.

At the close of last night's meeting while folks were arising to leave, Harry had clearly surprised and pleased Pavel as he'd walked over to the old man and rather obviously mind-spoken to him, then drawn up his sleeve and revealed his under armor. Without making any big deal out of anything, Pavel asked Professor Snape and herself to come over and grasp Harry's sleeve, while he cast a luminous spell on their hands. He informed them that Harry could now side-along apparate with them, and they could cast spells on Harry without the armor interfering with them. She then took snake form, and slid up across Harry's shoulders, as they made ready to leave.

Harry then asked if he could just take a moment in his room, he wanted to get something... and in he dashed, probably forgetting that Oxsana was already with him. He summoned Wilfried, and seemed a bit surprised, but very pleased when he appeared. He asked Wilfried if he knew Professor Snape's favorite morning tea and biscuit, which he did, and asked if it could be placed alongside the Professor the next morning at 6:45 whether in his classroom or his laboratory? Wilfried smiled as he bowed and said he would see to it personally, and Harry dashed back out to head home with his Gryffindor contingent.

So, Harry, Ron and Hermione met up in the Common Room at 6:20 to make their way to the dungeons, and Harry had already taken out his assignment list of the potions he needed to make this week. Hermione said how interesting it was watching the two Polyjuice cauldrons develop and change across this time. Even Ron grudgingly had to admit, he was finding the Potions assignments and classes in the afternoons, easier as they worked through these detentions.

The Professor greeted them as they entered the classroom, and she found his gaze searching for her until he caught the reflection of her eyes beneath Harry's collar. She flicked her forked tongue at him in what she hoped he would interpret as a cheery wave, as he gave a minuscule bow adding, "and Inquisitor Brezynski" to his greeting.

Both Hermione and Harry went to their work stations in the lab, and began their tasks. Ron sat in his classroom seat and copied down the assignments for the week, then got started on today's. He needed to read a section of the text, then answer the odd-numbered questions in the back of the chapter. Normally, the Professor assigned the class homework of the even-numbered questions. Ron would sooner be tortured than admit that he was getting better grades on his assignments - Professor Snape DID grade homework, not just as complete or missing - and that his brewing was becoming easier as well.

At 6:45 on the button, a steaming cup of Twining's English Breakfast Tea, a slice of lemon, and a plate of biscotti appeared at the Professor's right hand. He looked with a moment of suspicion at the largesse, sniffed all for a moment, then waved his wand at it - checking for poisons or interference no doubt - then smiled and settled back on his stool a moment to dunk a biscuit into his tea, and enjoy both with satisfaction.

He stood up, holding teacup and biscuit, and walked to the laboratory doorway to address all four of them at once. "I shall not embarrass anyone by asking, but... thank you. This is kind." And everyone maintained the fiction that he had not spoken at all. By the end of the period, Polyjuice chugged along perfectly, Harry had a potion for "transfer medium" that could carry other substances into human tissue, and Ron had completed his work, so he turned it in.

* * *

Immediately after breakfast, John headed to the 2nd Floor Girl's Room and looked around for Myrtle. Not finding her, he sighed and resigned himself, then transformed into ephemeral form to go searching for her. Having toured "her plumbing" in his earlier trip, John had a good idea of the path to take as he called her name out softly. He ultimately found her maintaining surveillance at the Prefect's Bathroom on the 5th Floor... no doubt hoping some late starting Prefect would decide to mull things over in the hot water. John glided up behind her silently, and thoroughly enjoyed her discomfiture when he said, "Hello..." and watched her startled jump into a stone wall.

"Hello, handsome," she recovered quickly, taking his arm. "Couldn't keep away, could you? Now what would a nice boy like you be doing looking for poor little old me?" as she batted her eyelashes behind her thickset glasses.

He began descending to the 2nd Floor Girl's Room, as she maintained her grasp on his arm. "I wanted to know from you, what you remember about the day you... died. I realize that must have been just awful. But I would really like to know what happened, everything you can remember, even something very small..." and by now, he had emerged in front of the sink that would slide away as the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, which they now had all seen through the disclosures of Oxsana and the Book.

"Well," Myrtle began, entering one of the toilet stalls, "It was dreadful. It happened right here in this very cubicle. I'd hidden here because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. I was crying. Then, I heard somebody come in."

"Who was it, Myrtle?" John asked.

" _Sigh._ I don't know. I was DISTRAUGHT! Then he said something funny... a kind of made-up language, and I realized it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door to tell him to GO AWAY and... I died."

"Just like that?" John looked confused. "How?"

"I just remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes... Over there... by that sink," she said, indicating the entrance sink John floated near.

John then took a very close look, top to bottom of the washstand and sink. He examined the circle of sinks, came back to this one, and transformed his hands into flesh as he felt along all its surfaces. Feeling the bas relief of the sculpted snake on the side of the spout, he checked all the other spouts and found no such decoration. He knew he could probably force the materials to obey him and part right now, but he wasn't sure what traps, triggers, or alarms may be set to that, so he chose to wait. This was good for now.

"Myrtle, is there anything else about the plumbing here at Hogwarts that could interest me. Is there a way someone could use the drains to come in or out of the Castle?"

"Well, there's the drain to the Black Lake..."

"Would you show me?"

And Myrtle took his hand, followed a series of pipes into and through the plumbing pumps that Harry had been working on last week, and then followed an intake pipe out, indeed, into the Black Lake itself. Here Myrtle took him down to see the Merfolk, the grindylows, the Great Squid, and other flora and fauna specific to the Lake. Shooting back up the intake pipe, and eventually back to her 2nd Floor Girl's Room haunt, John thanked her kindly and took his leave.

 _"Right! That mission is accomplished!" he thought, as he headed on out to monitor broom classes, until luncheon._

* * *

At 12:15, Professor Konstantyn excused himself from the High Table and inconspicuously made his way out to the front gates of the Castle. He was thrilled when Harry tugged at his robes, and he realized he'd neither seen nor heard their approach.

 _"Excellent, Harry! You are doing so well with those muffling charms, even the three of you... I did not hear your approach at all," he mind-spoke to the three of them._

 _"I was hoping to surprise you," Harry giggled._

Pavel reflected that he'd have to start using a broader spectrum of magesight now, if Harry was getting this accomplished at stealth. So he set off walking at a brisk pace towards Hagrid's hut, and when they arrived together, he knocked on the door. Hagrid admitted them, and Harry surreptitiously removed the cloak as some sandwiches and refreshments appeared on Hagrid's table, courtesy of the Professor and Wilfried.

"I'm just going to check some things on this edge of the Forest while you talk. I trust the children will be safe in your care, Hagrid." as he transformed into a gray wolf, and bounded towards the Forbidden Forest.

"Absolutely, per'fessor," Hagrid assured him, and Pavel knew Oxsana would be there as well. Besides which, he himself was only a thought away.

"Hagrid, we need to ask you what you know about the Chamber of Secrets. You were here then, weren't you? Tell us what you know, please. We're looking into this Heir of Slytherin business, because people are thinking it's me. So the more you can tell us, the less we have to find out on our own, see?"

"What you need to know about that is... I was blamed for Myrtle's death, because of Aragog. But he dint have nothin' to do with it, nor I. It seemed the Chamber got opened, and muggleborns was gettin' attacked, an' they was gonna close the school, see? But then, when Myrtle died, Tom Riddle accused me an' caught me with Aragog. Aragog got away, even though Tom tried to kill him, he escaped, but he turned me in and the Ministry had me expelled. They didn't have enough to convict me, but they expelled me and took me wand. At least Aragog escaped, and got into the Forest safe."

"Hagrid," Harry was trying to follow all of this, "who... or what... is Aragog?"

"Aragog? Well he was me pet. I was raisin' him in the dungeons. He lived in a chest. Perfec' gentleman, he was. He never hurt nobody!" Hagrid explained, while Harry still looked confused. "OH, pet what? Aragog's a bit of a wee spider... Well, not that 'wee' really. He's an Acromantula. In fact, he's a Giant Acromatula. Big as a house now. Beautiful! Simply Beautiful he is!"

"Now?!" Ron exclaimed. "That was like, 50 years ago. You telling us he's still alive? Out there, somewhere?"

"Oh, yes, Ron. Giant Acromantulas are very long lived. He's got a big old nest in the middle of the Forest, and lots and lots of young'ns, too. What's wrong, Ron? Yer lookin' a little pale there, lad."

Harry just smiled, knowing Ron's affinity for spiders. "Hagrid, would you be willing to tell all this to Professor Konstantyn? He's kind of, well, trying to keep us out of trouble and investigate this Heir of Slytherin business with some of the other professors. Your information would really help." _Harry invited the Professor back to join them._

"Sure, I'd tell the Per'fessor anything he wants to know. But don't you kids go meddlin' in things that aren't your affair! You don't need to go a'messin' with something that's killed students. You get into enough mischief on yer own wi'out that!"

"Ah, a man after my own heart!" Professor Konstantyn laughed as he walked in the back door. "You tell them! However, Hagrid, to give you a little peace of mind, these three delinquents are now under fairly close supervision exploring some avenues of information otherwise hard for adults to get to. However..." he cast them a very pointed look... "they know, clearly, where the boundaries are and what the consequences will be for crossing them, do they not?"

"Yes, Professor!" they responded in unison, with some heartfelt nods of assurance.

This seemed to extend some peace of mind, as the Professor said, "Hagrid, I would appreciate knowing all that you can remember from that time, and we have some new information to share with you as well. Also, it is vaguely possible that you may get a brand new exciting pet out of this affair. So... for now, let's share information..."

So, for the next 20 minutes or so, Pavel shared all they had learned about the Basilisk, Tom Riddle - now Voldemort, The Chamber of Secrets, and the Heir of Slytherin. They discussed the Book and that it contained some form of Tom Riddle as an entity, and that he was an active part of a current conspiracy. Pavel asked Hagrid what he knew about Basilisks in general, and found he knew quite a bit, and offered, if the beastie could be saved, to adopt it. Pavel said he would take it under consideration, even though Ron rolled his eyes at the thought. Pavel then asked Hagrid to tell him all he knew about Aragog and his brood. As Hagrid spoke, Pavel began to smile in a way the children had come to realize would bode no good for someone or other.

By 12:50, Pavel said it was time for them to return. He had classes to teach, the children to take, and they would be back in touch for further planning through the week. If Hagrid could be available on Friday, Pavel thought it may be well worth his while to take part in the festivities. Hagrid seemed delighted as he helped the children back under their cloak, and Harry cast their silencing spells again. All made their way back to the Castle in time for their 1:00 classes.

* * *

At 2:00, both Professor McGonagall and Ginny Weasley had a free period. Having checked their schedules, Minerva waited outside Ginny's 1:00 class, and asked her to come with her to the Headmaster's Office. Ginny felt like she was walking to her doom, having her Head of House bring her to the Headmaster, but there was nothing Minerva could do to relieve the child's fears out in the hallways among other students.

"Bertie Bott's Beans," Minerva said to the gargoyles guarding the Headmaster's stairway entrance, and as they stepped on to the rising spiral, she was finally able to say, "Nothing is wrong, and you're not in any trouble, so please relax, Ginny."

The relief was so profound she almost lost her balance on the moving stairs, and as they exited, the child started to cry. Minerva patted her shoulder comfortingly as they approached Dumbledore's desk, as he walked down the couple steps to direct them to the comfortable chairs and couch area.

"My dear," he said gently to Ginny. "Nothing is wrong anymore. That's why we've called you here, everything is and will be, all right now." He sat down in a big upholstered chair, taking her hand to lead her to alongside him at the end of a couch, where Minerva could sit alongside her and still drape a comforting arm around her shoulders. "What has been happening is not your fault, and you have shown extraordinary courage and resolution to rid yourself of that dreadful Book."

At those words, she began bawling in earnest, "I'm so ashamed! You KNOW about the Book! I'm so sorry. I couldn't help myself. I didn't mean for anyone to be hurt. And I made such a mess of Harry's room. Am I to be expelled?"

"My dear child, you're not listening! You are NOT in trouble. That Book is a very powerful magical artifact that influenced you, and affected the things you've done. You look as if you've not been sleeping. When did you last get a good night's rest?" Minerva asked.

"I don't even know, Professor. I've had these dreadful nightmares, and found myself walking in my sleep. So I've been afraid to go to sleep. I even tried tying my ankle with my bedsheets, hoping if I tried to go anywhere it would wake me, or trip me, or something. I should have told you, I'm so sorry!"

Headmaster Dumbledore saw that "tea and sympathy" was making her feel worse than before. It was time for his "authoritarian voice".

"Miss Weasley! I need your attention please!" And for the first time since walking in, she sat up straight, sniffled herself clear, and stopped sobbing. "Listen carefully now. You have been under the influence of an artifact of Dark Magic. Rather like being under the Imperius Curse, you could not have told anyone about what was happening if you had tried. Your voice would not have operated for you. You have hurt no one. You have harmed nothing. And... through exertion of truly extraordinary will... you rid yourself of the object. The boy you met in the Book, Tom Riddle, was using Dark Arts to work his will... but the worst he could do, was get you to paint some graffiti and utter some syllables at a sink. Do you understand me?"

She nodded, "Yes, Headmaster."

"Good. He had created enough of a bond with you that even after you lost the Book, he was able to direct your thoughts, probably in your sleep. The Book is now contained, securely contained, and he cannot affect you in that way anymore. Furthermore, renouncing the connection as you are doing here with me and Professor McGonagall will further eliminate any possibility of him reaching you in that way again.

"Now, child, calm yourself, and tell us, if you can, everything you can remember about these things. Remember, you are not in trouble and you will not be punished, but please don't omit any detail. Trust us, talk to us, and let us help your recovery..."

Still a bit anxious, Ginny described how she'd found the book in her potions cauldron from Diagon Alley, with her second hand textbook, then started writing in it starting correspondence with Tom. Then Tom brought her inside the Book and showed her things about Hogwarts and how to open the Chamber. From then on, sometimes she'd feel like she was dreaming when she was wide awake, and that's when Tom would make her do things. Like opening the passage to the Chamber of Secrets through the Girl's Bathroom, or painting the walls, and following the voice in the walls that hissed and talked.

When she finished, Headmaster Dumbledore asked, "Is that all you can remember? Is there anything else?"

"No, Headmaster. That's all I know," and she looked down shamefacedly.

"Ginny, none of that is your fault, you know," Professor McGonagall stated matter of factly.

"If you say so, Professor," she responded.

"But you still feel guilty, as if you were somehow at fault, or as if you cooperated, don't you?" the Professor continued.

She nodded miserably. "He said..." she started to sob... "he said if I told, no one would believe me, and that I was a silly little girl who liked feeling important and powerful. And... and..."

"And a small part of you did?" Professor McGonagall finished gently.

"Yes, ma'am. I did," Ginny nodded miserably.

"So," McGonagall's voice took on her official Head of House tone, "you feel you deserve to be punished, even if just a little, for feeling powerful... just a little."

"I know it may sound silly, but yes, I suppose that is what I feel."

"Verra well then. I'll not have any Gryffindor of my house walking around feeling guilty for a wrongful attitude, when they feel deserving of punishment. Ms. Weasley, I am assigning you a detention, starting right now. I am excusing you from the rest of your classes today, and we are heading to the Infirmary where I shall get a bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion from Madame Pomfrey. We will then proceed to your dormitory, where ye'll take yer medicine and be put to bed. You are to confine yourself to your room until Supper, when you may join the House to eat, or, if you sleep through Supper I will have food brought to you when you awaken. But you are restricted to your bed or the Great Hall until morning. Is that understood, young lady? _You are grounded_. Will that assuage your conscience?" Minerva smiled.

"Yes, ma'am. I hate being grounded," Ginny looked up, smiling back.

 _"Pearfect then!_ Is there anything else, Headmaster?" as they all rose from their seats.

"I would only ask, have you been eating properly today and yesterday?" Albus inquired.

"Um..." Ginny looked at her shoes.

"Right then!" Minerva picked up immediately. "I'll have a meal brought to you as well. _Noo off wi' ye!_ Let's move along."


	43. Battle Planning

**Battle Planning**

Students in History of Magic were surprised to find that the Professor seemed to have forgotten to assign any written homework on Monday. That was distinctly odd. Each Monday the assignments for the week were posted in glowing letters above his desk, and those students who felt ambitious were welcome to complete and submit them early. There was a distinct advantage to doing so, as the Professor always had the grade posted on the notice board outside the classroom by the next day, and if you did not like the grade you got, you were welcome to redo and resubmit the assignment. You would keep the highest grade you got, right up to the due date for the assignment. Late work lost one full letter grade per day late. So timeliness was always an advantage. But this week, all the assignments were reading only. Odd.

That day, in all their spare time, both John and Pavel had done overflights of the Forbidden Forest and Black Lake using their supernatural mind abilities of memorization to record exact recollection of every detail. They also used magesight in various forms, to record the location of every living creature. Thus they had full mental maps of both locales and all their inhabitants that could be perceived. Still, there was no sign of the remaining minions of Stoian Petrov, but they knew they were there somewhere.

At Supper in the Great Hall, Headmaster Dumbledore announced that to take best advantage of the waning Autumn, there would be no classes held on Friday, but that all students were welcome to take part in what he hoped would become an annual Field Day. Newly introduced sports, such as football, baseball, cricket would be played, along with amusements and broomstick racing. Students should sign up for the various activities on sheets at the back of the Great Hall, and races would be divided by skill level so all could participate. This announcement was greeted with cheers from all, as the Headmaster seated himself.

Pavel requested the family meet after dinner, including Professor Snape, Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. He was uncharacteristically quiet through the meal, but no one wanted to disturb him, so conversation was subdued. His pensiveness was a combination of both focus on planning - trying to be certain he missed no critical elements or ignored any risks, along with, frankly, worry. This mission combined two incredibly dangerous adversaries, three if you counted the ephemeral Tom Riddle, along with so many innocent children and family as well. He could not afford a mistake. Not again. Not here. Not now.

When Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall walked through Harry's Door to the Konstantyn Suite, they were surprised to find a large clear space in the middle of the room before them. The Professor stood there, holding his staff, as the Headmaster, John, and Professor Snape stood with him.

Pavel smiled as he asked the children, "Please draw your wands, and stand in three corners," echoing the command used in class when he set up a Diorama for a lesson. With the tip of his Staff he indicated corners of the clear space in which he stood. He placed the staff upright in the center of the clear space, and was surprised to see Ivan transform himself into a 12 year old version of himself.

"What?" he said with cheek, as everyone turned to stare at him. "I've been wanting to do this for a while. This is the perfect opportunity." and he walked over, drew his wand, and took the fourth corner, ready to aim at the Headpiece of his father's Staff. Pavel could not resist walking over to him, giving him a hug and a kiss atop the head. This young man, not too much bigger than Harry, had soaked up knowledge and attention like a sponge, and he enjoyed his company as much as the Ivan with whom he now worked. John had chosen to wear a "school uniform" much like the children's, but with his own family crest and colors in place.

"Oxsana?" Pavel addressed the little snake tucked under Harry's collar. "Harry is perfectly safe here, please resume your human form. If you wish to go lie down for a bit, or clean up, or anything, please feel free to make this time your own.

She slithered down Harry's sleeve, and seemed to "pour herself" off his arm into her human form. "Thank you, Papa Pavel. I'm not tired, but I do think I'll pop off for a brief visit to the loo," speaking as she walked. "Thank goodness snake metabolism is much slower than ours. I'll be right back."

"Right, then," Pavel began in a businesslike tone, "let us begin. Professor McGonagall, I believe you asked about my Dioramas a little while back. _'Ecce!'"_ and Pavel's hands rose in the gesture that had become so familiar to the children, as though conducting or playing with an instrument of many strings attached to an invisible space. At the same time, force began to flow into the Headpiece from the children's wands as the mist pool grew in the living room. Pavel's eyes closed, and from the mist emerged an incredibly detailed relief map - actually a full dimensional model - of the Forbidden Forest and surface of Black Lake. The precision was breathtaking. Once it was formed, it took a few moments for the substance to stabilize, as the children found themselves momentarily distracted when they'd start to watch it too closely.

Suddenly, Hermione squeaked with a sharp intake of breath. She'd not realized that every creature was also represented, and they were animated.

"Well, here is the 'battlefield' where we shall do combat Friday. Below the surface of the Black Lake..." and the Diorama allowed the water to drain away to expose the banks alongside Hogwarts, " you'll see some large pipes that connect to Hogwarts. These are water intakes and drains. The Castle uses magic and plumbing to clean all our drainage, and it flows back into the Lake none the worse for wear. We all owe Mr. Filch a vote of thanks. Now," taking his Professorial voice, Pavel grasped his wand, "over here..." as he pointed with what seemed like a _"Lumos"_ spell, that caused the illuminated circle to "explode out" under considerable magnification... "we have the clearing where Petrov's minions tried to abduct him. Deeper into the forest, here..." as he indicated a new location, "we find another clearing with more clear usable space to it. Here is where I suggest we lay our own trap. And way over here..." he said, as he released that clearing to fall back into the landscape, "we see a high grove of arched and gnarled old growth oaks, where a Great Acromantula named Aragog has made his den for decades, and shares with hundreds of his offspring."

Ron's section of the Diorama began to mist and splutter a bit, as he stared at what was clearly a spider the size of a caravan, contained in the magnified section the Professor had pulled out.

"Focus, Mr. Weasley," Pavel smiled. "He may be animated, but from here he is still just an illusion." Harry started to chuckle, laughing at his friend's discomfiture, and Pavel responded with surprising seriousness. "Everyone has fear, Harry. Most are rational, some are not. Never make fun of someone's fear. Courage is not to be fearless. Courage is to do what must be done in spite of the fear one has. If any of us looked upon a creature like Aragog and did not experience some fear, I would not want to fight alongside him or her. That would be foolish. Fearless people tend to die young, and take others with them." Harry blushed, looked down, and said nothing as his quarter of the display sputtered a bit before he recovered his focus.

"Very well, now..." and with a forward thrust of his hands, the Diorama "froze" in place. No breezes blew, no birds flew, nothing more moved. "Now, children, you can release your supports, gradually please," and slowly their wands lowered and Pavel lowered the Diorama's plane to the floor. The Staff yet stood in its midst like a giant tree overshadowing the scene. A flick of Pavel's wand, and chairs were summoned in a circle around the Diorama at their feet. "Feel free now to walk around the scene and examine anything you wish. You can even walk into the scene if you want. Your steps will momentarily disturb the mist, but it will settle when you are still. I would like you to thoroughly understand the terrain where we hope to see the end of Petrov."

Albus finally said it. "What do you have in mind, Pavel?"

"It's deceptively simple. We will do three things. One, we will communicate to Petrov that while Harry Potter cannot be transported to him, he can come to this clearing where he will gain access to Harry. Two, we will bring the Basilisk to this clearing. Three, Harry, riding atop the Basilisk, will command it to look eye to eye to Petrov, turning him to stone... which we will then crush and distribute to the four winds."

"What do you think?" Pavel smiled, as Oxsana had returned in time to hear the entire plan. John and she smiled. Albus looked reflective. Snape looked more than a bit surprised. Ron and Hermione looked worried. Minerva was working her way from irritated to furious.

Harry said, "That sounds brilliant, Professor!" with a huge grin on his face.

"Yer planning to use Harry as bait?! By no means, Pavel! You'll not dangle this boy before that assassin like a worm on a hook. No!" Minerva barked, predictably.

"Kind lady..." Pavel began.

"Don't you 'kind lady' me, Pavel Konstantyn! Albus! What have you got to say?" and Professor McGonagall having lost all constraint, was using "family and familiar forms of address" in front of students. "Decorum" and "proper form" were not her priorities at the moment.

"What I think, Minerva," Albus joined into the familiar mode, "is that we should hear Pavel out. You know as well as I that he will not expose Harry to undue risk. Is there risk here? Of course there is. But, is that risk greater, given our control of the situation, our containment, and additional forces... than Harry's risk is at the moment, with unknown enemies attacking him at times and places of their own choosing? You know that Harry is at risk in all of this. Now, Pavel is here for his protection first and foremost. I think we can trust to that, don't you?"

"Perhaps," Minerva conceded, "but I still don't have to like it," she'd not go down without a struggle.

"I could not agree more, Madame. This is certainly not how I would design Harry's curriculum for this term, given any choice," Pavel laughed. "However, we must make the best we can with what we have."

"All right, so how are you planning to get the Basilisk from the Chamber to the clearing?" Oxsana focused on the tactics of the operation.

"Well," Pavel looked cautiously sidelong at Minerva, "here's where our young collaborator gets to further establish his reputation as a delinquent. John will be shepherding the Basilisk out into the Black Lake through the largest drainpipe. Harry, who will be astride his broom racing at that time, will spot the Basilisk as he surfaces to swim into the Forest, and will fly over to him and mount him, then ride him to the clearing."

Minerva drew a very deep breath and closed her eyes, but said nothing.

"You, Oxsana, will be on him at the time, and I will have him totally covered in shielding of Prime, Matter, and Mind. You will cover him in Life and Death armor. I will be in the clearing, which will be surrounded by both Ivan's operatives and your own. We will use the memory recordings we have from the three minions, to connect discretely withe three who survive, so that we can entice them to the clearing, incapacitate them, and counterfeit their signatures so that Petrov doesn't detect the switch. They will then send the message to Petrov that they've captured Harry, but cannot leave with him. We know Petrov insists upon doing this assassination himself, so he will surely come. No one will mention the Basilisk until Petrov discovers him for himself, and by then it will be too late. What is it the English say? 'Bob's yer uncle'? Petrov dead, Harry safe, we all go back to normal life."

Everyone just sat there, some nearly in shock. Minerva was not happy, Albus and Severus were just processing the plan. Oxsana and John were calculating the tactics and preparations they would need to make. Harry and his friends just sat still and couldn't believe they were allowed to sit here and take part in this meeting.

"Now children? I'm going to say something very important that you will not think is important at all," Pavel said.

"What's that, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"I need you to be certain you have all your schoolwork done properly, turned in on time, and you get in no trouble this week. Our timetables and schedules are very important, and I need your time as open as it can possibly be. Attracting attention for poor performance from some faculty member not in this room, or getting assigned a detention or kept after class, could put pressure on these timelines that is most unwelcome right now. So not only do I need you to 'act normal' through the week, but I need you to be on your best behavior. I'm not going to bother to threaten with consequences or intimidate, as all of this is in aid of keeping Harry, and all of us, safe through an extremely dangerous operation. May I count on your cooperation in this?"

All heads nodded, "Absolutely, Professor!" they all agreed.

"Thank you. Then, I'm going to ask a favor of you. That you go home now, back to your tower, and finish any schoolwork or study you need to, and go to bed at 9:00 if you would. I know that's an hour earlier than Professor McGonagall is requiring. But this week, just for these few days, I need you to get plenty of rest. We cannot know when we may be called upon for some sudden or extraordinary effort, and I need you fresh and strong on short or no notice. Will you do this for us, please?"

"Sure thing, Professor," Harry answered. Ron and Hermione nodded as well. Looking at the Tempus over the fireplace, they saw it was just a few minutes before 8:00 now, so they stood up, briefly head bowed to the faculty - surprising and pleasing Pavel - and said their goodnights. Minerva stood, saying she would accompany them to the Common Room so there was no misunderstanding, and Oxsana slithered back under Harry's collar. Minerva said she would return in just a moment, and together they left through Harry's door.

* * *

While Minerva was away, Pavel shifted his staff, and the Diorama with it, to the table in front of the fireplace. He summoned Wilfried, who manifested a tray with coffee, tea, and spirits, along with some crackers, cheese, and fruit, to a side table. Pavel had reduced the scale of the Diorama to manageable size, and invited the gentlemen to join him at the comfortable parlor while they awaited Minerva's return.

John had been quieter than expected through the evening, and now sat with them, still in the form of his 12 year old self.

Severus looked over at him with a bit of a chuckle, and said, "That's a good look on you, John. How's your Potions skills? I can always use another bright second year in class."

"My performance was more than adequate, sir," John answered, consistent to his role.

"As I recall, young man, your academic performance in Potions was 'more than adequate', but your deportment was atrocious," Pavel laughed. "What was that you combined again? Concentrated Pacific Kelp, volcanic ash, and powdered Lampyridae?"

"That would..." Snape pondered, "that would... depending on proportions, explode? Making a glowing green dye, a stain, that would phosphoresce bright green in the dark? You didn't..."

"I absolutely did not, sir... Explode a phosphorescent green dye all over myself. No, sir."

"Ah," Snape said, in his oily smooth tones. "I detect a 'however' that should be added to the end of that sentence, young man."

"However... as you ask... the instructor's cauldron did have a bit of a mishap. Yes."

"And how did that work out for you?"

"Could have been better," John admitted. "The guy was a complete jerk, you have to understand..."

At which point he was interrupted by a very sharp clearing of the throat, by Pavel.

"Well he was, Papa. There's no two ways about it..."

"I take it you were caught?" Snape smiled.

"I was NOT caught! It was done brilliantly, and the fool had no earthly idea! The idiot just had the class come into his office one by one and asked us if we did it. I'm sure he suspected me, he called me in third. I was perfectly happy to see the man glow indelibly green for the next 24 hours, but I couldn't lie to him. That's just not what we do... dammit."

"Language, sir," Snape couldn't help himself.

"Sorry, Professor. Anyway, I just told him I did it."

"And then?" Snape was enjoying this way too much.

"And then the idiot swatted my hand with a ruler, and wrote a note to my Head of House. He assigned me detentions, and wrote a note home."

"I see. And how did that work out for you?"

Pavel had remained silent throughout the recitation, wearing just a quiet smile as they awaited Minerva's return.

"Mother received the note, and I'm sure 'reviewed its contents' with Papa. I was told by my Head of House that I would be going home for the weekend, and he sent me home Friday after my classes. When I got home, Mother had tea ready in the kitchen, but didn't say very much. I guess she waited for me to start, but I wouldn't say anything about it. I just tried to pretend this hadn't happened," John chuckled. "She then walked over to me, swatted the back of my hand... hard... and put the note down for me to read. It just told what I did, said I'd taken one swat on the palm, that I'd been assigned some detention, and that they may wish to 'make their own displeasure known'. Then she sent me to my room to wait for Papa to get home to call me into his Study for a 'little chat', though I could take my tea and biscuits with me."

Snape shook his head with his own memories, "I know what those 'waiting times' are like."

"Yes, well, fortunately Mother had received this note two days prior, so Papa had had plenty of time to overcome any anger, and she had done the best she could on my behalf. But, while this was a childish prank, it wasn't like an accident or a spur of the moment loss of temper. This had been a cold, calculated offense to a professor... and abuse of my understanding and knowledge of potions. There was much against me, including the disrespect of it, and not much to say on my behalf. That 'little chat' in Papa's Study showed me I had very little hope of mercy on this."

"Surely your honesty in admitting the offense must have worked in your favor?" Snape turned to look at Pavel, as John did the same and they both waited on his response.

"It did, of course, Severus. But... I don't really know how to put this... that fundamental honesty, not to look someone in the eye and lie to their face, especially in admitting a wrongdoing for which we ourselves are utterly responsible... that's just a fundamental part of who we are. Of course it counted in John's favor, but for him to do otherwise was simply unthinkable. It would have been like him 'running away from home', or trying to 'divorce his family'."

"And the issue, if issue it was, of this professor being 'not the sharpest knife in the drawer'? Was that a mitigating factor?" Severus asked. "I mean, if there was validity to the critique..."

John laughed, "Heck no! I even tried that. I think it made things worse!"

Pavel laughed, "It did, by the way. Validity of critique does not give a child the right or the authority to criticize in the first place. John did, indeed, try to justify his actions by the rationale that his professor was not worthy of his respect. That escalated his correction from simply the misdeed, to the misdeed and the contempt. I believe it was one of your more severe corrections, was it not?"

"You _believe_ it was? Seriously?! Hell yes, it was! One of the only times I ever actually needed mum's cushioning charm at the dinner table. I felt that one right through the next day's dinner. Between that and the chores!"

"Ah yes, I'd forgotten. There were some things to be done around the house, if I recall," Pavel smiled.

"I was never so happy to get back to school after a weekend home... And then I STILL had to apologize to that jerk!"

"Both in writing and in person, I believe," Pavel contributed.

"Yes, sir. And I lost a number of privileges until the next grade report came out, and Papa approved of my Potions grade AND deportment scores."

Snape just stared into the fireplace for a long time, quietly.

Pavel asked, "What are you thinking about, Severus?"

Snape shook his head a moment, recollecting himself, "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking how much different life could have been, had my upbringing been more like John's."

Pavel responded in a few moments in a soft and kindly voice, "Well, offhand, sir... I'd say you are a man of absolutely sterling character who has known far too much suffering, and surmounted it. Had you grown up in a family like ours, perhaps you would find it easier to forgive... both yourself and others, and you'd almost certainly laugh a good deal more than you do. But even with all of that, I'm very glad Harry has you in his life, able to help guide him as he grows up. Thank you for your care of him, of all of them."

"Pish! That rabble? Those urchins! Surely you jest! They're an unending source of irritation and aggravation to me!"

"Ah, sorry, Severus."

"Methinks he doth protest too much!" John laughed.

"As do I," Albus added his first contribution to the conversation, as Minerva walked in through Harry's door.

* * *

"So what have I missed?" Minerva asked, as she settled herself comfortably on the couch alongside Severus, and reached over to pour herself two fingers of the fine Scotch Wilfried had set out for them.

"Only some confessions of a Potions Prankster from ages past. Nothing much," Severus smirked.

"Ah, well, I'd like to catch up on that later, if ye don't mind," and she winked at Snape. As they all settled down to look at Pavel, who had clearly continued the discussion this evening for a good reason.

"Yes, there's one rather important point I've not brought up in front of the children that you need to be aware of. You know that for 10 years Stoian Petrov disappeared, utterly and completely, from any traces on the face of the earth. He did this so completely, that even I was beginning to think he may truly be dead. Well, one of the elements we have been able to confirm with the research done by Oxsana's department on his captive minions, is that Petrov accomplished this by going into Torpor. He literally did, disappear. He was 'temporarily dead' probably in a coffin, somewhere hidden deep in a basement of one of his safe houses, for those 10 years. Else I, or other mind mages as strong as I, or other Prime mages stronger than I, would have picked up some whiff, some trace, of his consciousness."

"What do you mean, 'Torpor', Pavel?" Minerva asked.

"Torpor is a special state, rather like hibernation, available only to Vampires. Full Vampires. That's what we've been able to confirm through his minions. Petrov is a full Vampire, probably of the Malkavian Clan. As such, he has proven almost impossible to kill. Hence the current plan. It would be difficult in the extreme to succeed in impaling him with a stake to the heart, though decapitation could be a touch more feasible, immolation is a sound possibility, but petrification... literally to turn him to stone, then pulverize and scatter his molecules in a jet stream, seems much more practicable. To say he is dangerous would be the height of understatement."

"So you're telling me that you plan to dangle Mr. Potter on the top of an active Basilisk in front of a full-blown Malkavian Vampire? Aren't they the 'insane' ones?" Minerva shrilled in an accusatory tone.

"Indeed they are, well done!" Pavel couldn't help but praise good homework. "In this case, the form of his insanity is actually to our advantage. He has a monomania, a compulsion. He cannot, does not, randomly kill. At least not the 'premium' contracts that he likes to undertake personally. He has to get up close and personal. He must kill with his own hands and fangs. I'll... erm... not say more than that," Pavel realized, looking at Minerva, that to disclose that he plunges his taloned fingers into the chest cavity to tear out a victim's beating heart, and eat it in front of them, as he preserves them in 'semi-life' before him to watch... was simply not information that it was prudent to share with her at this moment.

At about this point, John stood up, in all his pre-adolescent glory, and said, "I need to get a book from your Study, Papa. I'll be right back," and turned towards the Study when his father nodded permission. He left the door open when he went in.

Severus poured some tea, added some cream, and stirred his cup thoughtfully. "Is there anything I can do, anything I can prepare, that can aid us in this endeavor?"

"What would it take for you to prepare Basilisk Anti-Venom? Better yet, any way to immunize humans against its toxicity? And of course, some additional Mandrake Potion wouldn't go amiss, just in case."

Albus poured about half a glass of Scotch, and sipped it very slowly, admiring its woody aftertaste on the back of his palate.

It was Severus who first noticed how long John seemed to be taking. Seeing him as a youth automatically activated all the Professor's cautionary instincts. "What's keeping John?" he asked, almost rhetorically.

Pavel sent a routine thought questing for him and found... nothing. He leapt out of his chair and rushed through the open door of his Study only to find, nothing. No son, no sign, nothing but the Stasis Box open on his desk, and the Book opened to some blank center pages. John... had jumped into... the Book.


	44. A Matter of Death and Life

**A Matter of Death and Life**

 _[Pavel sent a routine thought questing for him and found... nothing. He leapt out of his chair and rushed through the open door of his Study only to find, nothing. No son, no sign, nothing but the Stasis Box open on his desk, and the Book opened to some blank center pages. John... had jumped into... the Book.]_

A thousand things leapt through Pavel's mind in less than a second.

 _Where was John?_  
John had entered the Book.

 _Why?_  
He had to want something in it.

 _What was in it that we didn't already have?_  
Only one thing. Riddle. Tom Riddle.

 _What would he want Riddle for, we already had his memories two different ways?_  
He'd want to destroy him. As long as that echo of Riddle exists, there is a risk of harm from him, or by his somehow reaching his current Voldemort self.

 _Was John a fool? Why enter this way?_  
This is a realm of death, and artificial life. John is a Death mage, and Life mage. This is his kind of dimension. He could encounter Riddle in any form he chose.

 _But why sneak in this way?_  
Because he wanted to go alone.

 _Why would he need to be alone?_  
Oh no... he wouldn't... Could he? Could he possibly intend to feed?

Pavel called out to his friends, "Would you please join me in here? Professor Snape, would you summon your potions? Especially any Calming Draught, Dreamless Sleep, and healing . Albus, one moment..."

 _"Oxsana!?" he mind-spoke._

 _"Yes, sir?"_

 _"Is Harry asleep yet?"_

 _"Not quite, but he's lying down about to fall asleep."_

 _"Good, please join me immediately in my Study. Do not tell him you are leaving, just blink here. Hopefully you will be back before he notices. I have no doubt he will be safe in your absence. Thank you."_

Of course Oxsana wanted to ask a million questions, but Papa Pavel would not make such a call if the need were not urgent. And that's not a time for a lot of discussion. There would be time for all that later. She blinked, and was standing instantly in the Study with her colleagues.

"Thank you, Oxsana. Please wand into ops clothing, and carry all your gear. Now, Albus, Oxsana and I are going to enter the Book. John's in there, I'm not sure why. Please take our hands, now the three of us... solidify our sympathetic connection... love one another as deeply as we can, and commit to one another's well being."

Both Albus and Oxsana understood, and complied.

"Albus, I need you to hold that link with us, passively. We are going after John, and we may need you to pull us all back out. But you must not do so, until I call. Promise me... no matter what you sense... not until I call."

Albus nodded, "I understand, I promise."

Minerva was beside herself with concern, but knew this was no time for conversation. Severus had gathered a number of potions on the desk and was about summoning more, as silently as needed.

"Oxsana," Pavel said, "I need you to follow my lead and obey me without question. There's no time to explain right now, but if I'm right, you're going to see things you've never seen. Whatever you do, make no sound and do NOT mind-speak or touch John in any way. Clear?"

"Yes, sir. Clear."

"We go..." and the two of them put their hands on the open pages, and disappeared from sight.

They "arrived" in the main hall foyer of Hogwarts Castle, in that twilight-type dimension like observing in a pensieve. Pavel closed his eyes a moment, sensing the right direction to go, when they heard John's boyish voice - _"the fool is still in 12 year old form!," Pavel realized_ \- calling out searching for Riddle.

"Tom?" John's voice sounded lost and a bit anxious. "Tom Riddle... are you here? Please come out. I've heard you're here and I'm lost! Tom?" a tone of plaintive pleading.

The sound was coming from the direction of the Great Hall, so Pavel and Oxsana, wands drawn, cast silent mobility on themselves and eased their way that direction, keeping to the abundant shadows all around them.

John had fully entered the Great Hall, with its four long tables making their way forward to the High Table. Finally he sat down at one of the tables and started to weep. "Tom! I need you to find me! Where are you, Tom Riddle?"

Pavel and Oxsana turned the corner where they could see everything clearly, then backed into an alcove holding an armored knight, to wait and observe.

Slowly, they saw Tom Riddle appear, entering the High Table platform from the Faculty entrance. Of course he would want the run of the off-limits parts of the Castle, now that this was "his" Castle.

"I'm Tom Riddle. Who are you, boy? I don't remember ever seeing you. How did you get here? What are you doing here?" he said, as slowly he walked down the steps and began to approach John up the center aisle.

John had risen from the bench, and began walking down the aisle towards Tom at the same time. "You're Tom Riddle? I was told I could find you here. I was told you were looking for me. That you liked little b..." and in less than a heartbeat John disappeared from where he'd been walking, and a streak of light shot towards Riddle. Suddenly, John was on Riddle's back, as though piggy-back riding, but his legs were wrapped around Riddle's legs and his arms wrapped tight around Riddle's arms and chest. John seemed to have grown larger, but looked no older, as his mouth spoke in Riddle's ear from behind him.

Oxsana was startled, and Pavel could feel her wanting to move.

 _"No!" Pavel mind-spoke. "Do not move, speak, or make us known. There is nothing we can do now but wait, and any distraction will put Ivan in grave danger. Will... Oxsana. Use your will and control, we cannot move or make ourselves known." And he could feel Oxsana's self-control taking hold._

"Tom... Riddle... so big, so evil, so desperately wanting to be feared." John's voice grew deeper, more sinister. He himself seemed to grow larger, darker, far more menacing and threatening. "But in reality, just a frightened little boy. Afraid of everything. Afraid of other children. Afraid of being found out. Afraid of death. Afraid of life..." John paused, seemingly enjoying Riddle's desperate struggle to free himself. Riddle was shouting, trying to free his hand to reach for his wand, trying to cast any kind of spell for relief. "BE SILENT!" John roared in his ear, and Riddle's voice was cut off.

"Don't be afraid, Tom," John's voice became sickly sweet. Oxsana took a moment to look at Pavel as he watched his son. His eyes, his face, displayed pain and heartbreak. She wanted to speak, but knew she dared not. She turned back to watch as John continued to torment Tom. "Don't be afraid, little man. I am here to save you. I am here to free you from all your fears. I will even give you what you most desperately wish for... But first things first..."

John had now grown, significantly larger than Riddle, yet still in the form he had come, and yet he looked dramatically different. He looked more like a caricature of himself.

"You seek death, but you are not dead. And here, you are alone and waiting. Let me end your waiting for you..." and John's face had elongated, his eyes becoming black pools with no ending, as his mouth opened red and wide, and suddenly, he sank great fangs deeply into Tom Riddle's throat. Black ichor - you couldn't say blood... not here - spewed from his neck as desperately Tom tried to scream, but nothing would come.

John said, "Oh, I'm sorry. You wanted to say something..."

And suddenly the shrill piercing scream of an adolescent echoed eerily through the stone vaulted hallways.

"Death, Tom... your fulfillment and completion. You have 'servants' you call 'DeathEaters'... What sweet irony, eh? You DARE use such a title for your monkeys of minions, when here, now, you meet the real thing. Me, Tom. I.. am... a... true... Death... Eater. Watch!" and John grasped at the pulsing ichor spurting from the ghastly wound in Tom's throat.

"Oh, wait, Tom... I promised you a gift. I promised you what you desired above all else..." John taunted, as he saw the slow dimming in Riddle's eyes... "Here, Tom. Just for you, just for now... I bestow... LIFE!"

And in that terrible place of sepia tones and colorless shadows, Tom Riddle, Ghost... became flesh. Suddenly, Tom could hear real sounds, and feel John's arms around him. He could smell the aroma of candles burning. He could see... real living reality around him, though for whatever reason the living could still not see him. For just one glorious moment, Tom Riddle could hear the reality of his own pulse, and could feel the warm sticky flow of his own life's blood draining away from him ever so quickly.

"Hope you enjoyed that, Tom. Because those were the last things you will ever know." And the last sound Tom Riddle, 16 year old echo of Voldemort ever heard, was the sound of the Vampire laughing in his ear, as it turned his head and ripped out the rest of his throat.

Oxsana felt the gorge rise in her throat as she turned into Papa Pavel's chest to weep.

He whispered in her mind, _"It is almost finished. We must wait just a little longer. He must finish with the blood, then we will have to move quickly. Be ready now..."_

And she had no idea whatever what he was talking about. But doing anything would be better than standing here, watching that, and doing nothing...

Pavel held her face to his chest so that she did not have to see... John feeding on the corpse of Tom Riddle. He drained the blood, the ichor, the essence of the lad into himself like a sponge soaks up water. It would not take long, but he had to have the timing perfect. When Riddle's body was nothing more than an empty husk, John let it drop to the floor, where it fractured like a giant crystal snowflake, and crumbled to dust, then smoke, then nothing at all.

John seemed finished, and Oxsana wanted to get to him, but Pavel stopped her.

 _"Not yet," he mind-spoke, "all the blood needs to be absorbed. It is still on his clothes, you see?" She nodded. "I will tell you when. And when I do, we will run to him and you must grasp him below me, below the waist. Grab his legs, whatever, and tell him... with every voice you have, that you love him. THAT, what you are seeing there, is not John. John is buried beneath that. That is his Beast. The Beast will try to strangle him, bury him, drown him, suffocate him. It will try to overpower John so that he cannot find his way back out. We need to enter John's mind with our love, and call him back. Do you understand?"_

Oxsana nodded.

 _"You must not fear the Beast. But you cannot let it distract you. It will try. It will try to hold on to John, but between us, I believe we can push it away, call John to us, and he can contain his Beast again. Understand?"_

 _"Yes, Papa Pavel."_

He watched for the right moment. "NOW!" he cried, and they both blinked to wrap their arms around John.

"Ivan! IVAN!" Pavel shouted. John's face was wild and feral. His eyes were still solid black. Oxsana began to reach within John's mind to call out for him and feel his warmth with her again. Pavel then reached into his son and called him to him with every tone and every voice. Commanding, pleading, anxious, angry, he walked the corridors of John's interior mansion seeking his son, and nothing and no one was going to stop him finding him. The Beast tried a time or two to get in his way, but Pavel mind-lashed at it, with all his passion, and the Beast thought better of any direct confrontation.

Finally he heard it... "Papa! PAPA! Where are you? Are you here? Am I dreaming?"

"I'm here, my son," Pavel found him behind a closet door. Whether Ivan had climbed in there on his own to hide, or whether the Beast had locked him in... Pavel neither knew nor cared. He blasted the door asunder like it was a soap bubble, and there was his boy Ivan. He was well, a bit scratched up here and there, but he was whole and fine.

"Oxsana! Come to me here! We have him!" and Oxsana joined them both. The boy was too weak to stand or walk yet.

Oxsana said, "Let's get out of this terrible place!"

"We cannot, not quite yet. Ivan, you need to finish this, and it doesn't require strength, only will. We are here with you. Nothing can hurt you. Now, do what must be done, so we can all return home."

John took a deep breath, then called out with authority, "Beast! Come forth!" And some... thing... maybe like a wolf, maybe like a bear... maybe totally different? Came slinking up to stand before John. As it stood before John's gaze, a metallic collar appeared on it, with attached chains. A muzzle strapped on to it, and a cell, like a kennel, grew around it. "Know your place Beast, and know that when you attack me, you must always lose."

And with that, Pavel had lifted the boy in his arms, now again no bigger nor heavier than Harry, and the three of them stood still in a hug as Pavel called out to Albus to bring them back home. Like the twisting inside-out feeling of apparation, Ivan fainted in his father's arms as the three of them suddenly stood once again, in front of Pavel's desk in his Study.

Pavel just walked out to the couch by the fireplace, as Professor Snape summoned all his medicinals out to the side table with their refreshments. Pavel willed the Diorama into the headpiece of his Staff and let the Staff return to its stand in his Study. Pavel looked towards Oxsana as she collapsed in a chair, and smiled at him.

"I know. He'll be fine. He'd spoken to me of such things before, but I'd just never seen it. I know what he did. I even know why he did it. But I still want to kill him," she laughed, tiredly.

"You'll have to wait in line, my dear." Pavel smiled, just as tired.

"Let me return to Harry. All is fine here now, I know. And I want to stay with him while he sleeps. I shall rest some as well."

"Very good. Thank you for all you did, and for heeding so well. I know that was hard." Pavel hugged her warmly.

"Pfft, I've done harder. I used to have this Training Officer, who..." and 'poof' she blinked away.

When Pavel collapsed in a chair, Minerva finally knew it was safe to speak. "Paul... what in the world happened? And is John all right?"

"In the short form, Tom Riddle is no more. Ivan went to 'eliminate' him. Which he did, with extreme prejudice. And apparently, my brilliant son thought he would kill two birds with one stone. Knowing the demands of upcoming days, and that he may need to use vampiric abilities, John decided to 'feed'. He consumed Tom Riddle, both rendering him utterly obliterated as any sort of horcrux anchor, and charging his vampiric abilities with about the most potent fuel you could possibly imagine."

Albus asked, "So what was it that upset you so when you left. Is he in trouble with his authorities for doing this?"

"Oh no," Pavel gave an ironic chuckle. "For once, he would not be in the least bit of trouble with Ivailo, even if I referred him. He is a qualified Death mage, Life mage, and can do vampiric blood magic. No two ways about it, he is and was eminently qualified to do what he did..."

Severus smiled as he said, "I sense another 'however' coming at the end of this sentence..."

"However... when a vampiric in a twilight realm like that, in an ethereal form like that, absorbs the essence of a being as evil as that Tom Riddle fragment of Voldemort was... he 'feeds his Beast', that is... he runs the risk of absorbing directly so much 'evil' that he becomes, truly Vampire there, and can lose all control of his humanity."

Minerva asked, "Paul, is he all right? Did that happen?"

"Yes he's all right... I think. And, it 'tried' to happen. His Beast tried to bury him, smother him. But he won out over it, fettered his Beast again, and will no doubt be the same smart-aleck Ivan we all know and love, soon. I'm just giving him a few moments to recover and gain some strength. What he did is exhausting in the extreme."

"But why would he do such a risky thing without telling anyone? Didn't you and Oxsana have to help him recover and return?"

"Yes we did," Pavel still smiled. "In his own way, he did tell us where he was going and what he was doing. That's why he left my desk that way. His intentions and motives were perfectly clear. He just delayed me a little bit. And if you ask him why he didn't tell anyone, I bet I can tell you exactly what he'll say... 'Better to beg forgiveness, than ask permission.'"

"The poor wee mite..." Minerva said, solicitously.

This was just a bit more than Pavel could take, given the circumstances. "Madame, while we have the moment and Ivan rests, let me show you all what happened. It's appropriate to our information sharing anyway..." And Pavel opened his memory from the time they arrived in the entrance foyer, until he asked Albus to bring them home. They were a bit shocked, but not overly so. They'd all seen terrible things across time, and they knew more than they would ever admit about blood rituals. But seeing someone they loved, in the mindless bestial state of the true Vampire, was a little tough.

"Now, I don't mind a bit if you're inclined to treat him as the reckless youth he deserves. But 'poor wee mite' was a bit beyond the pale."

"I see what you mean," Minerva had to chuckle now.

"Let's see if he'll wake... Ivan! IVAN!" Pavel called, shaking John by the shoulder. "Ivan, wake up!" and there was no response. "Ivan..." and Pavel slapped him. Not hard, but a bit stinging, across the cheek with his fingers.

This got a bit of a rise, and groaning, sounding something like "just five minute more, Mum".

Pavel smiled and stood up, "he's all right. Just exhausted." Putting on his stern command voice, he barked, "Ivan Konstantyn! Get up this minute! You're late... wake up!" And Ivan's eyes opened wide, and there they were... pupils and irises, just like every human should have. A great relief to see.

"Papa? Is that you? Where am I? What's going on?" and he seemed a bit confused.

"Yes, it's assuredly me. You're in our apartments, and you've just come back from dealing with Tom Riddle."

John blinked for a few seconds, trying to orient himself. Then it all seemed to hit him at once... His eyes welled up as he tried to jump to his feet, lost his balance, and tried again.

Pavel caught him, saying, "Whoa youngster, take it easy. Stay down."

"Oh, Papa! Oh, that was horrible. Is this really you, or am I dreaming?"

"You're not dreaming, son. I'm right here, as are our friends."

"Oh, I'm so glad. I'm really home?"

"Absolutely!"

"Is everyone ok? Nobody got hurt, right?"

"Absolutely!"

After a few more seconds of reflection... "Oh, man. Am I in trouble?"

"Absolutely!"

Severus said, "I'm going to treat your scratches and scrapes a bit, and give you some potions to help your strength and balance. I realize you have regenerative and recuperative powers to beat all, but at this moment, you're exhausted and physically drained, so let's let the medications do their part, eh?"

"Right, Professor. All yours."

"And young man?" Minerva said, and there was that finger again. "I told you what would happen if I ever saw you do anything as foolish as that duel again. And as far as I'm concerned, what I just saw qualifies as just such an act. If you weren't too weak to stand and walk, I'd be assuring myself you'd not be sitting for a good couple of days. But you just rest up and get your strength back, and perhaps we'll have a 'little chat' about all this after the excitement is all over and done with, eh? For now, Gentlemen, I'll take my leave and head to bed." She gave both John and Paul a hug and headed off for the night."

Professor Snape finished his ministrations, and he and Albus took their leave as well.

Pavel looked down at his still-young son, and just shook his head with a smile. "You scared the life out of me, you know."

"I know, Papa. I'm sorry, truly. But I knew what you'd say if we discussed it. And even this isn't as much trouble as I'd be in if I defied you."

"It ought to count as the same thing, when you know my will so clearly."

"But it doesn't, because you gave no such order!" the boy laughed.

"Cheeky brat. We'll see who has the last laugh Saturday."

"What's Saturday?"

"The day after Friday. I need you in tip top condition up through Friday. That's when we go to battle. You know you're safe until then. But eventually 'Papa gets home', and the piper WILL be paid, my son."

"Thanks so much, Papa," the boy whined, as his father picked him up to carry him to his bed, wand him into a change of clothes, and tuck him in for the night. "Always good to have something to look forward to."

"I think so, too. Now, hush up, and go to sleep. I've not gotten to put you to bed this way in decades."

"Any chance of a story, Papa? Maybe some more about the sad little prince who played a beautiful flute?" and John rolled over on his side, to snuggle a pillow, as his father's eyes filled with tears, and he pulled up a chair to continue the story.


	45. Life Goes On

**Life Goes On**

The children knew nothing of the drama between John and Tom Riddle the night before, as they trooped into Professor Snape's classroom Tuesday morning. Harry had made his "tea and biscuits" request into a standing order until their detention was finished, so he figured that was taken care of. Just before their arrival, Professor Snape had mind-spoken the question to Pavel as to whether he could inform them of Riddle's demise. Pavel thought that a wonderful idea, further bringing Snape into their circle of trust.

"Good morning, children and Inquisitor Brezynski," Snape entoned as they came in and started towards their places. "Before we begin, I want to let you know that last night, through the efforts of Headmaster Dumbledore, Master Constantine, and Inquisitor Brezynski, the entity we knew as Tom Riddle from the Book, was eliminated. He was destroyed and his presence will no longer provide any anchor or horcrux for the Dark Lord, nor can his personality interfere with any living souls..." and he looked pointedly at Ron with this last disclosure. He was not altogether sure Ron understood, so he continued, "Mr. Weasley, your sister had been oppressed by his will through her temporary possession of the artifact, but that is now utterly gone, and she has processed the ordeal with Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore, having recovered fully. There is no further need for concern on her behalf." Ron looked relieved, so Snape carried on with their day.

Hermione worked on her Polyjuice preparations, Ron had a written assignment to complete that would reduce his homework burden for the week, and Harry got started on the third, and last, potion actually needed for Mr. Filch's medication. Professor Snape's tea and biscuits appeared perfectly on time, and he enjoyed them directly, without even checking them for poison or other sabotage. Again, he offered a verbal thanks to the general environment, without seeking out their donor.

As Harry and Ron walked to breakfast, Harry spoke to Oxsana in Parseltongue, "You helped destroy Tom Riddle?"

"John did that. Papa Pavel and I simply helped him recover and come home."

"I wish I'd been there to see," Harry hissed.

"No, you don't, Harry. It was nothing anyone would want to see. I know you can't understand this yet, but battle... death... is never glorious and seldom heroic. It's tragic. It's always tragic. The only reason to engage in battle at all, is to avoid deaths in the future that are even more tragic. But death is almost always ugly and horrid. I'm glad you were not there, Harry. And to be honest, I wish I had not had to be, either," Oxsana spoke in her soft serpentine syllables with a tone of sadness that foreclosed further discussion.

Breakfast went by without any notable moments. Pavel, John, and the rest of the "family" at the Head Table managed to smile some 'Good Morning's at them, and Harry took a moment, wordlessly, to mind-speak a hug to both John and Pavel, knowing somehow that words weren't necessary, but the hugs would help. The two of them hugged him back with a clarity of force that astonished him. When he looked up, they were just smiling.

Tuesday, the heavy class day, went by without problem. Professor Konstantyn was giving in class written assignments, rather like "tests", but not really. He asked questions, giving situations, and asked students to react to them. It included questions like, "How did the principals react in these situations?" but then followed up with "How could their situations have been improved?" or "How would you do things differently if... you were the monarch?... you were the aggressor?... you were the defender?... you were the advisor to...? or you were the Chief Mage to...? His point was never to emphasize memorization, though there was value to that and he rewarded it. But rather the emphasis was placed on reasoning, and planning to effective action.

Early that morning, as Pavel had been finishing up his grading for the sheets he kept up to date outside his classroom door. One of the most enviable abilities of a competent mind mage, was the ability to compartmentalize the mind into channels, and maintain "full attention" on more than one topic at a time. One such "full time" mind, Pavel dedicated to his duties as Professor. He always, no matter the combat, the assignment, the planning otherwise going on, maintained one full time identity dedicated to his classroom duties and his students.

The middle of term was approaching, only a couple weeks away. It was time to begin to prepare his students for how to be successful in his course, and, hopefully, in other studies as well. On this particular morning, however, he had noticed a very odd thing about one of his students. It was his homework. It was brilliant... for the first half or so of the assignment. And then the scrolls looked as though they'd been handed to a six year old to finish. Answers went from well researched, thoughtful, and well composed... to simple answers given no thought whatever, badly composed, lacking any research at all. So a parchment that began as Outstanding in its first half, fell to Dreadful in the second half, ending up somewhere between Acceptable and Poor. This, Pavel found utterly unacceptable. He could not continue to grade this student at the border of failure, when he was clearly capable of doing Outstanding work.

"Mr. Goyle, please remain behind a moment," the Professor said, as class ended and Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved on to their Transfiguration Class. Pavel had no class in the next period, but he would write a note to account for Gregory's tardiness for Minerva.

"Please sit," Pavel said, as he hung up his robes, indicating the chair in front of his desk. Goyle sat, a bit apprehensively. When Pavel returned to sit at his desk, he took out five parchments of Goyle's "half done" homework, and spread them out before the student from left to right, like music sheets atop a piano.

"Please explain to me, Mr. Goyle... this mystery. How is it I have a genius at the top of the page, and apparently a toddler at the bottom?" he said in a voice that reflected amazement and confusion, rather than anger.

"No excuse, sir," Goyle answered, formally.

Pavel smiled. "Thank you. That is an answer I appreciate fully, especially in circumstances of accusation. But this is not such an occasion. This is not a question of accusation or reprimand. Not yet, anyway. I ask a question of true inquiry. Help me understand this."

Goyle shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and exhibited every sign of acute embarrassment. "I'm not trying to be difficult, sir. It's just that what I could say really DOES just sound like a pathetic excuse. It's something of a political problem."

"Ah, I understand such things. Let me make some observations here. I know that you and Mr. Crabbe spend a great deal of time in the company of Mr. Malfoy. I also know that Mr. Malfoy's family is an old wizarding family of high standing. Do I take it that your parents, and perhaps those of Mr. Crabbe, are ... let us say... 'within the sphere of influence' as we use the term in our history class, of the Malfoy family?"

"Yes, sir. You could say that," and Goyle looked relieved that he did not have to say these things, and that it seemed the Professor understood some of these diplomatic niceties.

"And this difference of status, this deference shown to the Malfoy's out there, carries on to deference you need to show to Malfoy in here?"

"Somewhat, yes, sir."

"Then answer this question directly, if you please. Do you stop working on your homework when a student of higher status, who shall remain nameless, deigns to 'call for you', and you must take up your role as his... companion? Might you have to put up your homework and studies to hang out with him in what he considers 'free time' for all of you?"

Goyle examined his shoes closely as he answered, "Yes,sir."

Pavel's lips tightened in irritation as this picture became more clear in his mind. His voice took on that brittle edge as he asked, "Mr. Goyle, why do I not see any moments of weakness in other students' homework? How, if he does not spend appropriate time on his assignments, is he getting it all in well-completed?"

Goyle's face took on a bit of a pained look as he said, "I'm sure I couldn't say, sir."

"Mr. Goyle, I understand honor among colleagues, and I will not ask you to compromise the trust of another. I even admire the fact that you are sitting here, prepared to be reprimanded for this, rather than clear yourself by implicating another. But I need to know the truth here, and I do not want to put you into a bad position. So... I am going to voice, to myself, a speculation. If my speculation is incorrect, then you may speak out of turn and correct me. If it is not, if I am speculating correctly, then just maintain your silence. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"I have to wonder if you work on your own homework until some other student calls for you, and you then have to complete his homework, writing in his hand, until it is finished. That leaves you little time for your own, which you try hurredly to finish whether later that night, or in the morning before and during breakfast, or whenever you can fit it in before it is due. Thus, the second half of your work is careless, hurried, and deeply flawed.

"I did not hear you interrupt me, Mr. Goyle. Is that correct?"

"That's correct, sir. I did not."

"That is unacceptable, Mr. Goyle," Pavel said, as he pulled out his record book examining the homework scores for both Malfoy and Goyle over the past two weeks. "I see that an other student of interest has had Outstanding scores over that time. Is it a correct and truthful statement, that this score is a result of your work?"

Goyle would neither speak nor look at him, as silently he nodded. Instantly, Goyle's score adjusted itself accordingly, on the score sheets, while Malfoy's remained unchanged. "I find this singularly unacceptable, Mr. Goyle. Please, however, be aware... you yet have total 'plausible deniability'. You have revealed nothing to me. You have never mentioned any student by name. You have protected and preserved both his identity and his perfidy.

"Mr. Goyle," his voice softened, "Gregory, how much private, uninterrupted time do you need to complete your own assignments, in ALL classes, properly per week? Please interrupt or correct me if what I suspect here in History is not happening in all other classes as well... Right, I hear nothing, do I? No. So... what time do you need to present your own work properly?"

"Hard to say, sir. I'm easy enough to 'find', and I've tried study halls or the library, and... um... I always get 'found'."

Pavel smiled, "I have a solution for that, Gregory. 'Twas not my question. The question is... how much time do you need?"

Greg shook his head sadly as he said, "about four hours per week. I've a heavy load, and it's hard to keep up. I'm hurting in Transfiguration and Charms too, let alone Potions. It's really tough for me with Potions, since Professor Snape's our Head of House. But since he's... um... well, since he's Godfather to one of our students, THAT homework has to be 'perfect' and takes more time than somewhat."

Gregory had no idea how angry this sort of bullying, subtle political exploitation, made the Professor. But Pavel knew he could not penalize Malfoy for it without blowback onto Goyle. Well, at least he could improve the situation for Gregory here. "Stand up, Mr. Goyle. You're going to be punished, follow me."

This confused and upset Greg, who nonetheless stood without hesitation, and followed, saying, "Yes, sir."

Pavel walked with Gregory out the door of the classroom to a custodial cupboard next door, and looked about, seeing room for about four class desks, he nodded, banished the contents to empty the room, summoned classroom desks, a display board, a _faux_ window showing the landscape outside, and cheerful lighting. He then changed the label on the door to read "Detention Classroom".

"Mr. Goyle, place your hand on this door, please," the Professor commanded. When Goyle complied, Pavel drew his wand and coded the door to open to Gregory's touch. _"Mr. Goyle, in punishment for your atrocious homework assignments over these days, and for your systematic failure adequately to prepare your schoolwork in more classes than mine alone, you are hereby assigned to perform 4 hours per week of detention for the next month. You will perform this punishment here, in this room, where you may have access to an house elf who will provide tea or other appropriate refreshment for you during your work. You will report here for four hours per week immediately following your last class, or at any time convenient during the day, and work on your own, and only your own, schoolwork. Is that clear?"_

Gregory smiled, as he thought through what had been said. "Yes, sir. That's clear. This is... this is a private study hall for me?"

"No, Mr. Goyle. That would be to afford you an inappropriate privilege. This is a Detention Classroom, for you to perform your punishment. Of course, in any given week in which your work is completed in less than the required four hours, you are excused from detention. No one else will be admitted to this room unless they are also assigned to this detention, and the door will not permit anyone to 'find' or 'disturb' you. You may come and go on your own, as needed. I do not need to be in attendance, nor even informed, unless you desire that. Although I will say," Pavel smiled a bit, "if you do less than 4 hours, you'd best be sure all your work for that week is turned in properly. For I shall check up on any 'short weeks' be assured."

"And, as for my getting any 'other students' in Dutch over this?" Gregory looked worried.

"Mr. Goyle, you have admitted to nothing, revealed nothing, disclosed nothing, and identified no one. How could any other student possibly get in trouble from this interview?" Pavel's voice dropped to a more conspiratorial tone, "Trust me, sir. I shall attend to that matter in a manner that will not expose you in any way. Now, THERE... you've been reprimanded for pathetic homework, and punished. Go on with you! Here is a note excusing your tardiness for Professor McGonagall. Get your things and go on to class! Enough of these pathetic scrolls... get your work done, now! _Begone, waif!"_

"Yessir!" Goyle laughed as he answered energetically, darted off to pick up his things and went to class.

 _"Hmm," Pavel thought. "I think a little chat with Severus may be in order," and he started to plot._

* * *

As luncheon was finishing, the faculty members of the conspiracy family had discussed the situation under some privacy spells that rendered their words innocuous to casual listeners. Albus, Minerva, and Severus were well familiar with the problem. The politics of the Magical community often interfered with the fairness and justice of academe. Just like any other form of bullying, it was difficult to address the root of the situation without just making everything worse for the victims.

Severus was particularly incensed by the situation, as these were his charges affected... both the bully and the victim(s), and because he could not 'officially' be seen as correcting Draco, so as not to alienate his father as a source of valuable information. About halfway through their conversation, however, Snape began to smile in a most self-satisfied way, which seldom boded good for any miscreant.

"I believe I have a solution, though it may take a bit of Gryffindor grit and courage," Severus smiled at Minerva.

"I'm sure my young lions can bear a bit of tribulation. What have you in mind?" she asked, with a suspicious smile.

"Albus, do you mind if I complicate your life just a tad, politically?" Snape looked on across Minerva to the Headmaster's chair.

"Of course not, dear boy. I yearn for greater political complications in my life! Tell me what you need."

Whereupon Severus shared his idea with rapid whispers, bringing smiles and nods all round from his co-conspirators. Clearly, by the end of the meal, there was agreement on a plan. Pavel's only condition was that the children needed to be made aware of the plan before it was executed on them. While this did disappoint Snape just a touch, he agreed without much resistance. He asked that they meet him at the Konstantyn living room immediately after they ate, so that they could not be observed with him before class. Seeing that they were finished eating already, Pavel mind-spoke to them, asking that they meet him and Professor Snape at home immediately for just a moment.

John, now back in his full-grown adult form, got up with Snape and Pavel and opened the side door from the High Table platform into the faculty corridor, but making it portal them directly to their quarters.

"You REALLY need to teach me that spell one day, John!" Snape breathed, admiringly.

The children entered, and Pavel and John stepped aside to let Professor Snape "chair the meeting".

"I need your help to right a wrong and flush out a wrongdoer. Are you game?" Severus got right to the point, and posed his proposition in an upbeat way.

"Sure." "Yeah." "You bet." The three nodded in agreement.

"All right, now... do you trust me yet?" Snape asked, with a lopsided smile that said he understood if they did not.

"I think we've figured out, you're one of the good guys, Professor," Harry said.

"Well, I don't know about that... but thank you. I need you to volunteer for me to accuse you falsely, berate you, reprimand you in front of the entire class, and in short... embarrass you to pieces... but only for a few minutes. I will be accusing the three of you of cheating and lying. And I'll sound deadly earnest. But the accusation is, and will be, utterly false, and you will be vindicated just as publicly as you are being accused, I promise. Ron, I wanted to brief you particularly, so that you didn't lose your temper and stand to berate me, or even attack me. This will offend you greatly, and you will want to defend yourself and your mates. I get that. In fact, now that you know this is a plot, you are even welcome to do that, as long as you watch your language and don't say anything that will otherwise get you punished. How does all this sound to you, we've not much time. We need to play this out in this next class when we meet at 2:00."

"Sounds fine by me, Professor," Harry said.

"Me, too," added Hermione.

"Wait, you're telling me I get to stand up and tick you off at the top of my lungs? Seriously? Oh, hell yeah, I'm in..." Ron affirmed, as Snape nodded assent, adding a quick, "Oh, sorry..." to the agreement.

"Right then. I need you a bit shocked and surprised when it happens, so I'm not going into any details now. Just be sure to look insulted, affronted, and innocent when the time comes. This should be fun. Thank you all," and with that, Snape dismissed them to go about the afternoon.

"I'm only sorry I'll miss the show," John said, as he portalled Severus back to his classroom, and headed out to assist Madame Hooch.

At 2:00, everyone was in their proper seat for Potions. All seemed calm, quiet, and normal as Gryffindors and Slytherins engaged in their normal "quiet time" exercise of glaring at one another.

Professor Snape swept in to the room, robes swirling, seemingly distracted by some parchments he had been reading. He tossed them down on his desk, folded his arms before him, and scowled out at the class. Slowly his eyes came to rest on Harry and Ron, sharing a desk together... and Hermione, sitting across an aisleway from them.

"Academic study at an institution such as Hogwarts is a critically important part of any witch or wizard's preparation for life in the Magical World...

"Potions, Charms, Transfiguration... all the things you study here, are important for you to function and survive in a dangerous world such as ours.

"Beyond that, there is the matter of fundamental integrity. That your word is your bond. That you go about attainment through work, and through honest effort. That while cleverness, cunning, even lying or exploitation are valuable skills to know and understand, they are to be reserved as weapons for use against one's enemies, never one's allies.

"Cheating is a form of lying, and I have no patience for either. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor," the entire room responded nervously.

Snape went on, his voice changed into the silky smooth tones that just made their skin crawl, "Now, I realize it may be a personal failing of mine, but I find it very hard to conjure the faith to believe in miracles. I find that most things have rational explanation. Don't you?" he waited.

"Yes, Professor," the class responded, even more nervously.

"And yet!" his voice lilted in a tone of wonderment, "And yet, I find myself awed... in the presence of what I can only assume is a miracle! Not, it must be admitted, a miracle of Biblical proportions... but miraculous nonetheless.

"I hold here in my hands..." he lifted a number of parchments from his desk... "some Potions homework assignments, turned in over the past 10 class days. And I find, that for SOME students, either divine intervention has provided them with the inspiration to take what was dismal homework performance, up into the realm of the truly impressive... OR... someone... is helping... them cheat!

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, stand up!" as hastily they got to their feet. "Are these your homework papers?"

"Yes, sir," they both answered, nodding, as he stalked over and flung them on the desk before them.

"Would you please read out, in chronological order, the grades on those papers... Mr. Potter, you first."

Harry read in a low voice, "Acceptable, Poor, Acceptable, Dismal, Acceptable, Exceeds, Exceeds, Outstanding, Exceeds, Outstanding."

"So, you have five papers there with only three passing scores... and that of only 'acceptable', and then... wonder of wonders... you have an epiphany of some sort that renders you suddenly competent, and you have 3 exceeds, and 2 outstandings? Did an Angel visit you in the night, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir," Harry blushed as some in the class snickered at him.

"Have you been infused with an 'Anti-Dunderhead' Potion I am woefully unfamiliar with?"

"No, sir," Harry answered.

 _Snape mind-spoke to Harry, "You're doing really well, Harry. Just stay with me a moment. We're setting someone up for a fall. This is all an act. I know EXACTLY why and how your scores have improved, and we couldn't be more proud. I can't be this hard on Ron, he'd break and blow this to pieces. So hang tough here, we're about finished."_

"And as for YOU, Mr. Weasley... Look at your papers there. I won't even make you read them out loud, but do you also see a distinct 'magical' improvement over the past five days?"

"Yes, Professor," Ron mumbled as he looked down.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, as I've said, I am a man of little faith... therefore I seek a more rational explanation. Ms. Granger, will you stand up please?" and he waited while she did so. "Have you been doing these Gryffindor's work for them?"

"No, Professor," she answered in a clear, strong voice.

"I put it to you that that is the ONLY rational explanation for their sudden improvement. Nothing like a little cooperative 'performance enhancement', is there, Ms. Granger?" his voice became more confrontational as he walked towards her desk.

"But, Professor, I haven't..."

Snape cut her off by wheeling on her suddenly, slapping both palms down on the front of her desk, and hissing... "Don't... lie... to me!" and Hermione started to cry.

 _Quickly he mind-spoke to her, "Ms. Granger? I... I..."_

 _She responded in kind, "No no, go on with it. I'm acting... you're kind of scary, but I know this isn't real. Carry on..."_

 _"Ah, right..." he tried to gather his thoughts._

"So you refuse to admit wrong-doing?" Snape yelled at the three of them.

"We've done nothing wrong, you greasy git!" Ron shouted back. "Takes a real man to make a girl cry, dunnit? Hope yer proud of yerself, you bully!" and while Ron wasn't totally sure if his 'license to backtalk' went as far as he had taken it, he didn't care if he did get punished, that felt so bloody good!

It took all of Snape's self control not to double over with laughter at that moment. He could positively FEEL the satisfaction rolling off Weasley in waves, but he couldn't afford to ruin such a wonderful role play as this now. They'd just come to the meaningful part.

"YOU DARE! All RIGHT then! Just for that..." and Snape whirled in a fit of rage, to return to his desk, where he swept his wand out towards the students, and sent a hurricane flurry of homework papers to each desk. "I shall PROVE it to you! Everyone has 10 days of their own homework in your hands, do you not?" Nods all round. "Very well, pass your papers to the student BEHIND you. All of them, mind. Don't be sorting out the real from the false!" And Snape seemed to keep his eyes glued to his three "Gryffindor suspects".

"Cheating, in this class is unacceptable and not to be tolerated. Right here, right now, if I catch anyone with this spell who has cheated, they will not only be dealt with by me as their teacher, but also with the Headmaster and their Head of House. Cheating dishonors the name of wizard, and the family that sent you here, so notes may be sent home as part of the punishment. Stand clear of your desks a moment!

 _"Revelate Scriptor"_ Snape entoned, as he let his wand sweep across the room, as if projecting light from its tip. "Now, everyone, sit down!" He waited as all sat down. "Now, on your neighbor's paper, you should see their name at the top right of the parchment, where they wrote it when they turned it in. At the BOTTOM of the page, in Red print, you will see the revealed name of the parchment's true author. If those two names match, on EVERY sheet, remain seated.

"But if they do NOT match, stand up now!" One student stood up.

Professor Snape feigned confusion, "Wait, that can't be right. It should be you two..." indicating the students behind Ron and Harry, "who should be standing. Who's papers are YOU holding, then?"

"Malfoy, sir. These are the papers of Draco Malfoy," read the nervous Gryffindor who happened to sit behind Malfoy.

"And who is the true author of the work?" Snape's voice seemed to drip with venom.

"Goyle, sir. Gregory Goyle."

A dead silence fell over the room, as students sat so still it was hard to tell if they were breathing.

"Please be seated, and everyone return your papers to their owners. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, please stand." Snape waited as they did so. "Please accept my apology for falsely accusing you. It was unconscionable, and my sarcasm was uncalled for. Please forgive me. Mr. Weasley, for your outburst you will see me after class."

"Yes, sir," Ron mumbled. And Snape could almost make out Ron mutter, "but it was worth it."

"I believe I will deal with Mr. Goyle first. Mr. Goyle? In my office, now. The rest of you, don't even DARE to think about moving from those seats," and Professor Snape stepped aside as he opened his Laboratory door and directed Goyle to the left, where the "office" furnishings were, opposite the lab tables and equipment on the right. He did not close the door completely, but left it open just a crack. Still, he'd told no one to move, so no one did.

Once they'd turned behind the door out of sight, Snape quickly whispered in his ear, "Professor Konstantyn and I have cooked this up to free you, and any other students in your position from the problem you've had."

Goyle had looked like a boy walking his last mile to his execution, now beamed with relief and delight.

"Good," Snape continued. "You understand. Now, will you trust me, and help me play this out?" still in an inaudible whisper.

"Yes, sir, what do you need?"

Now speaking in a voice heard clearly throughout the classroom, "I give you a choice, Mr. Goyle. You will be punished for cheating. Will you accept your discipline from me, as Professor offended AND Head of House? Or do you prefer to be sent to the Headmaster?"

"I submit to you, sir," Goyle caught on, and spoke clearly enough to be heard.

"Very well," Snape said audibly, then dropped his voice to whisper, "let's see what Malfoy is made of then, shall we?" And with a wave of his wand, Snape "set the stage" with lighting, two armchairs side by side, and a 16 pound fully-cooked, smoked, picnic ham adhered to the top of one chair with a sticking charm. The lighting came from behind Snape, illuminating him, the chairs, Goyle... all in silhouette. The shadow was cast clearly on the wall directly opposite the door, so it was like watching the scene from sideways on a shadow screen.

Snape had to smile, seeing the confusion on Goyle's face as the nature of the stage setting escaped him completely. Then, silently Snape walked him over behind the chair NOT occupied by the pig's haunch, whispered, and pointed, "watch your shadow on that wall."

Snape then said, quite audibly, "Mr. Goyle, assume the position. Over that chair, grasp the arms securely and keep your hands there. _Accio Cane!_ " As he spoke, a slight breeze wafted through the classroom into the lab, causing the door to open about one meter, more than enough to give a clear view for every classroom seat, of the shadowplay opposite the door.

Everyone had heard the conversation. Everyone saw the shadow of the cane fly into Snape's hand. Everyone watched, as Snape folded Goyle's robe and jumper up off the seat of his pants. No one heard Snape's last whisper to Goyle, "I'm going to need one brave grunt, then a smothered yelp, then one not so smothered... agreed?" And Goyle would never in a million years have thought he'd smile back at a teacher in his current position, as that teacher raised that wicked cane well over his head and took a step back, but he did as he said 'yes, sir' in response.

Three times, that cane whistled down viciously punishing... the ham.

Snape, never one for half measures, had not administered the strokes "flat footed", but rather did a one step approach, which is vastly more painful. The acoustics were perfect. Goyle did his job perfectly, jumping when perfectly appropriate, grunting, then smothering his cries perfectly, and slumping in relief after the third stroke. Once the pantomime was finished, Snape seemed to look up and notice the door open. "What's that door doi..." "SLAM" as he wanded it closed and sound warded it.

"There we are, Mr. Goyle. The door is sealed now. You may rearrange yourself."

As Goyle stood up, he was laughing. "Um... I don't really know what to say, Professor. Thank you, for sure."

Snape smiled in response, "Well, thank you for trusting me. It's hard to stop bullying without making things harder for the victim. Now... Malfoy stands in YOUR debt. That should be enough both to stop him from exploiting you, and earn you some sympathy or respect from him and others. You're a quick study, and caught on to all that right smartly. Well done. Now, if you'll trust me just once more, I'm going to tap your backside with this cane to put a glamour on you... you need to have the right marks, and it will give you a little itch irritation so you remember to wince when you sit, and rub once in a while."

Goyle decided to ham it up a bit, and returned to a full assumed position again, grabbing the arms of the chair and presenting his posterior for treatment. Snape found himself wondering if Goyle was a proper Slytherin or if a Gryffindor had perhaps been mis-sorted. But no, Goyle had understood the subterfuge almost instantly. Slytherin it was!

"Now, young man, scuff up your face a bit, muss your hair, and see if you can leak a tear or two. I shall leave you alone in here for the moment, to 'compose yourself', while I go out and dismiss the class... Oh, and send our Mr. Malfoy up to the Headmaster's Office," and Professor Snape reached for the door handle.

"Um, sir? May I ask a question?" Goyle interrupted him.

"Certainly, what's that?" Snape held, with his hand on the door.

"What is going to happen to Malfoy?"

"Oh, that? Well, Mr. Malfoy will visit with the Headmaster, who will no doubt express his severe disappointment and displeasure at the practice of cheating on one's assignments. Then, the Headmaster will be giving Mr. Malfoy a choice between being disciplined by me, as his Head of House, or having his father called by floo. Knowing Mr. Malfoy, and his father, Mr. Malfoy will voluntarily return here."

"And then?"

"And then," the Professor's expression and voice turned quite serious, "Mr. Malfoy will meet precisely the consequences you just did, except there will be only one chair, and no ham. Which will be seven fewer strokes than he would face if he went home with this disgrace. Again, thank you for trusting me, Mr. Goyle. Take a moment to prepare yourself, then come on out. Try to remember to limp a bit, if you can."

"Thanks, Professor. I will. I remember only too well."

"Right." Snape said, as he swept the door open and walked out, cane still in his hand. He pitched that on to his desk, looked at Draco and said, "Mr. Malfoy, please take this note - as a small parchment scroll popped into his hand, to the Headmaster's office. The gargoyles will be awaiting you." And he waited and watched as Malfoy picked up his belongings and headed up the stairs out of the dungeons. "The rest of you, read the next chapter, and be prepared to discuss it and complete the even questions at the back of the chapter in our next class. Dismissed!

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, please collect all the papers on the desks and bring them up here."

By the time they had finished that, the classroom had emptied out, and Professor Snape could congratulate them on a job very well done. They asked about Goyle. Snape said, "Ask him for yourself!" as he heard the laboratory door opening.

Hermione was first, "Greg, we're so sorry. Are you ok?"

Professor Snape smiled and nodded at Goyle. "They can keep a secret or two."

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was a sham. It was a shadow-puppet show. Professor Snape beat the hell out of a picnic ham... I just had to yelp a bit."

"Language, sir..." the Professor muttered into the papers he was sorting.

"Sorry... forgot meself."

"Oh, and Professor?" Ron started, a bit shyly... "About my outburst... Um. I'm sorry. I may have gotten a bit carried away with the role."

"Thank you for reminding me, Mr. Weasley. You will give me lines as your punishment. Tomorrow morning, during your detention, you will complete this..." and Snape handed him a small rolled up parchment.

The Parchment Said: "I want three lines of: 'I will never again yell that Professor Snape is a 'Greasy Git' in front of his entire class, and enjoy it so much!'"

"And by the way, I want to see THAT parchment, signed by Professor Konstantyn and returned to me tomorrow morning. I can't wait to hear how you try to explain it to him. Now... Go! Darken not my door! I have actual work to do! Begone!"

And the four of them muttered "Waifs!" as they giggled and scooted up the stairs.


	46. Where is the Heir?

_**A/N:** This story has nearly finished, and as I'm sure you can imagine, I have one or two patient family and friends off whom I bounce ideas as this progresses. Almost all of them are ardent gamers with wonderful mystical imaginations. One of those friends, whom we will call "Mercutio", got very invested in the fight scene that takes place here and could see and narrate it clearly... so I asked that he go ahead a write it up, and HE DID! So... credit where credit is due... this chapter is co-authored by both "Mercutio Ravenwood" (a master mind-mage also), and myself. I hope you enjoy! Grace to you - Mort_

* * *

 **Where is the Heir?**

It should have been such a normal day. It certainly started like such a normal day... Detention with Professor Snape went well. Ron got ahead on more homework. Hermione made more progress on her Polyjuice Project. The Professor got his tea and bikkies on time. All went swimmingly.

Professor Snape had acquired three tubs of the items they needed to "doctor up" for Mr. Filch. One was a standard soap, another was a grease cutting stain remover for hands and skin, and the last was the pot of grease used for lubricating the valves Harry had been working on. These were not the actual tubs from the dungeon, so that Mr. Filch would not miss them, but they were identical. The Professor had even "distressed them" appropriately, matching their wear and staining with the originals so the substitution would not be spotted. This morning, the Professor showed him how to mix the correct medicines into the materials so that it was all evenly disbursed. Tonight, in his "stealth training time" John was set up to distract Mr. Filch again, so that Harry could plant the newly doctored pots in the right places.

Classes went by smoothly. Harry even got to fly in the afternoon in the "free fly" time at 3:00, and had volunteered to help monitor and teach nervous fliers with the Professor, which he enjoyed very much. The Professor was starting to teach him "stabilizing" spells to help steady other riders.

At the end of the hour, the Professor asked, "Is all your schoolwork done for the week? What assignments you know?"

This rather surprised Harry, "No, sir. My assignments are caught up for today. But not for the entire week."

"Let's go home for tea then, and you can work on that while I do my own homework, eh?" Professor Konstantyn suggested. You can see if Hermione or Ron want to join you, but only if it's study, not play. At least for an hour. At 5, if you're caught up, you can play until Supper. I'll work at the table if you like, rather than my Study. We'll have tea together, eh?"

"All right, Professor," Harry conceded. He didn't really feel all that excited about the Study Hall, and didn't know why "being ahead" of his assignments was that important, but he liked sitting and working alongside the Professor, and he liked being able to get help or discuss homework when they were there that way. Besides which, it just felt... "homey". And he tried not to disturb the Professor at his work, but fortunately that "multi-mind" thing Pavel could do, kept interruptions from ever bothering him.

The main thing that bothered Harry about this, was that the only homework he'd been procrastinating on was his Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment. It just aggravated him so much to have to read and regurgitate all the bilge from Professor Lockhart, that he could barely keep himself quiet, let alone calm. And Professor Konstantyn always knew when something disturbed him, and would normally ask about it. He had no idea how to engage in any conversation on this without getting into what he knew would be massive trouble. For the moment, he'd resigned himself simply to get through it and say as little as possible. He tried to focus on his clandestine night stalking, and the sense of accomplishment he'd have getting those pots in their places successfully.

So between flying and Supper, Harry and his friends sat and worked quietly at the table with Pavel, enjoying their tea and reading or writing, while Oxsana got to take a break and spend some time in her own quarters. At 5, Pavel called a close to "study hall", satisfied with everyone's progress, and even engaged in some relaxation himself. He and Ron played some chess, while Hermione and Harry sprawled across his comfy chairs by the fire, and read books for pleasure.

John came to join them for tea, and, for once, didn't even disturb the atmosphere of peace and quiet. Actually, he slipped inconspicuously off into Oxsana's apartment. Pavel pretended not to notice, only once arising surreptitiously to check that the doors were open between his living room and Oxsana's bedroom, where Ivan had discretely entered. Pavel had to smile... you were welcome to hang out in one anothers' room, as long as the door stayed open. Apparently, they'd chosen not to test him on this here. Good.

"Professor?" Harry asked, looking up from his book, knowing his question would not disturb their game.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Why wouldn't you let me fight Malfoy last night?" Harry reflected on the Dueling Club meeting he so looked forward to all week. It felt like the one place he and Malfoy could face off and "take their best shots" without getting in trouble.

"I did not forbid you. I simply asked you to refrain. And you honored that, and I'm grateful."

"OK, but why?"

"Because you would have won, and you wouldn't have felt good about it. It would have been a 'cheap win'. Mr. Malfoy didn't want to duel you. Next week, you can both have at it again and it will be fine."

"What do you mean, a 'cheap win'?"

"Did you see Mr. Malfoy moving last night? As he walked, how he walked and carried himself?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you see him at Supper last night?"

"No, sir, I didn't."

"That's because he wasn't there. And if you watched him move around, you saw his stiffness and his limp. He'd been punished just hours before, Harry. And you can recall, I'm sure, how long it can take to recover your quickness and dexterity after discipline. Mr. Malfoy had been caned under school rules, which meant he could not be magically healed. He is not injured, but the gluteus muscles that need to give him quickness on his feet were not going to respond with his typical agility, and they won't for a couple days. I doubt he'll appear for Supper even tonight, though he may by tomorrow. I'm also sure, Professor Snape will see to it food is provided for him in the Slytherin Common Room."

Harry muttered, "I bet he'd have challenged me, if the roles were reversed..." and while he'd not intended it particularly to extend the conversation, he didn't try to muffle himself, either.

Pavel chuckled, "Ah, I know that lament only too well, my son! _'Why do I have to do things THIS way, when other kids can do them THAT way?'_ Does it chafe too much, Harry?" and his voice had taken on a gentle serious tone of inquiry.

"Pardon? I'm not sure what you mean?"

"All right. Let me ask all of you... You all know that you are now held to a different standard, a higher standard, of behavior than other students at Hogwarts. How do you feel about that? Do you resent it at all? Do you feel 'picked on' at all? This is probably more of an issue for you, Harry. But I know it affects all of you, and I'm curious how that's going?"

Harry thought about it a bit, then said, "For me, I think it's just 'strange' more than anything. I mean, I'm used to feeling 'singled out and different', but it's always been like, a 'bad' thing. Either with the Dursleys as a 'freak', or at Hogwarts as 'the Boy Who Lived' and all that. But here, it's kind of like what Mr. Filch said to John that night... that he's 'Professor Konstantyn's boy'. That's neither a freak nor a celebrity, it's just... a relationship. And for me that's new, and strange, and... well, it feels good really. Nobody's ever cared about whether I got enough sleep, or got my homework done on time, or whether I knew proper manners.

"As to a 'higher standard', well, you let me do stuff and try stuff, even if it's not technically allowed, and it's not like I get in trouble for everything you hear or see. You only deal with 'notes home', and I guess that's like anybody else here. So, I'm not afraid of every sneeze getting back to you, because I know you will let it go, even if it does, unless it's something dangerous for me. That just makes me feel safe. The Dursleys treated Dudley differently, like that he had to 'carry the name' while I was just the 'hired help'. Like he 'wore a suit' or 'wore the family crest', and here... well..." and his voice trailed away in either confusion or embarrassment...

"Here, now, you are the one wearing the family crest," Pavel finished.

"Yes. And so far, not saying this couldn't change, but so far... this all feels darned good," Harry smiled.

Pavel looked at Hermione and Ron, wondering if they had anything to contribute.

Hermione said, "this may sound really strange, but in my own home with my family, I feel 'odd'. Only because when I'm home on holiday or whatever, everything feels so different, so muggle. If I talk about things from here, it's not that they don't want to hear it, it's just that they don't understand it. And here, kind of like Harry, others look at me as a 'geek', or with these boys I need to be the 'grownup'. But now, in this 'family', I'm just... me. I have strengths, yes, but weaknesses, too. And all you 'expect' from me is to do my best and help keep us all safe. And you don't care if I'm researching basilisks in the library, or playing as a chipmunk in Harry's room, it's all the same to you. I feel free to be me, without conditions, and I'll have your support whether I am achieving something special, or if I get in trouble with Professor Snape. It's OK. I'm not sure I'd call it a 'higher standard', as much as I feel like it's just a 'real standard'. No bogus fluff. And I don't mind it at all."

Pavel smiled, nodded, and looked over to Ron.

Ron didn't speak right away, and when he did, all he said was, "No, sir. I don't mind at all. It's fine with me," and he tried to focus on his chess pieces very intently. But Pavel waited, knowing there was more to it than this. Finally Ron said, "you treat me special, and I don't feel like it's just because I'm Harry's friend. You make me feel like you think there's something about me worth spending time with and paying attention to. You call me 'Mr.' Weasley. No one else does that. I feel respected. At home - and I love my family to pieces you understand - but I'm the 'kid brother'. I've got one brother who works with goblins and curses, one with dragons, and then there's the Twins. How do I carve out my own turf against all that? I always thought I wanted to be an Auror, but I've never known one up close. You and John are just... well, I don't feel 'picked on' to be your 'nephew', sir. I just feel like my world and my possibilities got a lot bigger than I used to think. By the way, I've mentioned you and John a bit at home, and if you have the time during the Christmas Hols I really hope you can come visit and meet my family."

"I'm sure that will be our pleasure. All right, then, I just wanted to make sure that with all that goes on here, all the pressures you may feel between school and external adventure, that you didn't feel stressed by me or by this family."

Ron laughed, "Not a bit of it, Professor. Where else could I have to stand in the corner for three minutes, to earn your signature on a note that assigns me three punishment lines of _'I will never again yell that Professor Snape is a "Greasy Git" in front of his entire class, and enjoy it so much!'_ You made me sweat for that signature, until you ordered me to the corner! And you even HEARD him authorize me to talk back to him!"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, I heard the authorization to backtalk. But I recall hearing nothing of the term 'Greasy Git'."

"I was improvising... sir."

"Indeed," he smirked, rising from his seat. "Let us head to the Great Hall, shall we? Supper is about to be served."

"Yessir," chorused three voices, as they headed for Harry's door.

"Children!" Pavel shouted genially, towards Oxsana's rooms, "time to walk to the Great Hall!"

"Yes, Papa," came John's voice as he and Oxsana came to join them, and Oxsana transformed, slithering up Harry's arm to her perch under his collar.

The next hour in the Great Hall went by without any notable disturbance, as Harry was anxious to get on with his "mission" to replace the medicated pots in the dungeon. John was prepared to go distract Mr. Filch long enough for Harry to get down the stairs and back, and the whole thing was expected to take 15 minutes or less. Well, best laid plans, and all that. Life doesn't always read the plan.

* * *

Harry held the bag with his three containers of doctored unguents, wore his Invisibility Cloak, and had cast his _"Motus Silens"_ spell on himself for silent movement. John had made an appointment with Mr. Filch earlier to go explore a bit more of the plumbing near the staff apartments, where he thought he could hear something odd.

Once John had escorted Mr. Filch clear, Harry placed the soap pot at the sink behind his office, descended the stairs and put the grease cutter pot at the custodial sink cubby at the bottom of the stairs, and switched out the grease can with the new doctored material. But as he turned to exit... a loud ethereal hissing seemed to fill the chamber with him, coming as if from all directions at once.

 _"WWwwherrrrre... is the Heeirrrrr?" came the plaintive sibilant moan. "Where?"... "Where has he gone?"... "Where is the Heir?"... "I cannot find himmmmm..."_

Harry knew he was hearing it with his physical ears, but the voice seemed to echo inside his head like Pavel's mind-speech as well. _"Do you hear that, Oxsana?" Harry mind-spoke to her._

 _"I do, Harry. It's in Parseltongue. And it is BIG..."_

 _"You can understand what he's saying, yes?"_

 _"Yes, I do. He's searching for the Heir of Slytherin. We didn't think of this when we did away with Tom Riddle."_

 _"Can you follow him, Oxsana?" Harry asked, as he dashed to a drain where Oxsana's little snake form could enter the piping and plumbing of the dungeon._

 _"Yes, yes I can. You stay right here, or better yet, go to your door, go back home. I'll meet you back there and you'll be safe. Let me see if I can find and follow this thing to its lair."_

 _"Right, stay safe, Oxsana!" Harry said, as he readied himself to go home as he was told._

 _But again, that voice echoed all around him. It seemed to be in pain. It seemed lost, confused, perhaps even frightened. "Where is the Heir?" "Where are you? Come to me!"_

And before Harry could reflect or consider what he was doing, he'd changed direction and was heading full tilt for the 2nd Floor Girl's Room. He wanted to meet the Basilisk. He needed to calm his fears. He needed to take his proper place, as the Heir of Slytherin to keep the Basilisk from running amok in the Castle. As he pelted along silently beneath his Invisibility Cloak, he reflected only briefly on whether this would be considered an "authorized excursion" or not. He knew he was cleared to be out and about right now. He was using his "maximum stealth" abilities. He had not ditched Oxsana, she had left him. Granted, he was ignoring her order that he go home, but he hadn't thought of this at that time. All in all, he figured he'd be in some trouble, but he was still more or less within his boundaries for this evening, so he'd chance it.

He got to the bathroom, got to the gateway sink John had discovered and told them about, and found the snake carving in the side of the faucet. Standing back, he said... "Chamber, Open to Me", in Parseltongue - _"Heshah Sah..."_ \- and the sink came away from the others, dropping into a grate, while a central tunnel opened in the midst of the circle of sinks, with a walkway made to it by the grate.

* * *

Without thinking twice, Harry drew his wand and stepped into the dark circle of the tunnel, trusting that it would lead him to the Chamber. He dropped down the massive drainpipe until its smooth curved walls caught him and slowed his progress as he was tumbled out into a large circular junction filled with thousands of small creatures' skeletal remains. He called out in Parseltongue: _"I am here! Don't be afraid! You are not alone!"_ as he headed towards what seemed to be flickering lights in the distance. As he passed, rather like Mr. Filch's dungeon passages, torches ignited to light his way. He walked past a massive discarded snake skin, easily 20 meters in length, as he headed towards the arched passageway out to a much larger chamber.

As he stepped through the archways to that larger chamber, he could see the flickering torches along the walls and before him, a great metal door like the portals to a Gringott's vault. But there were snakes all around the edge of the circular design, and a face in the center he recognized from statues as that of Salazar Slytherin. There was a great stone walkway from the entrance he had used up to the metal door. Pools of water lay all around, left and right, with paved walkways leading to tunnels in the walls between each of the pools. There were great statues, 10 meters high, decorating this great hall, again commemorating Salazar Slytherin's accomplishments or greatness.

Harry approached the vault door, and commanded it, too, to open. The massive snakes around its perimeter began to slither in a clockwise motion on its face, as the heads of central snakes that had secured the door like bolts into the jamb, withdrew, unlocking the series of locks. Slowly the door swung outwards in its wide arc, and the interior of the chamber was opened.

Harry could hear the movement and breathing of the monstrous Basilisk inside, and turned his back in the nick of time to avoid making any eye contact with it. While Harry had turned away for his protection, he did not run. Although right about now, the reality that this had just gotten way beyond the realm of "acceptable risk" for him, had begun to dawn.

The Basilisk spoke first, _"Are you the Heir of Slytherin? You speak the right words, but not with the right voice. And you are not him, whom I have known. Why do you not look upon me?"_

 _"O Mighty Serpent, I do not know if I am the Heir you seek. There are those who believe I am, but I am unsure. Yes, I speak Parseltongue, but I am not the young man you knew. That was Riddle, Tom Riddle, and he has now passed away. I do not look upon you because I do not know if your glance would harm me. I mean no disrespect. I have simply never spoken with one of your ancient kind before, and I do not know what effect your gaze would have."_

 _"You speak courteously for one with so young an appearance. I am, indeed, an ancient wyrm. I was the familiar to Salazar Slytherin himself. You have already shown me great courage and trust to expose yourself this way, when I could easily take your life. Let us see how much further your courage extends. There... I have shielded my gaze with an additional nictitating membrane filter, so that we may look upon one another without fear or harm. Gaze upon me, young student."_

Harry took a deep breath as he turned around to face the magnificent Basilisk, familiar to Salazar Slytherin. He bowed, politely. He wasn't sure why, but it just seemed the proper thing to do. As it turned out, it could not have been more proper, as this ancient beast was indeed one for courtly manners.

 _"Why do you bow to me, young one? Do you worship me?"_

 _"No. But I can have respect for you without worship. It seems you have been a part of this school since the first stones were laid. You accompanied one of its founders and probably knew all of them. You've remained here in service to Hogwarts for 1000 years or more. You are certainly one to whom I can bow in simple courtesy."_

 _"Why did you come here tonight?"_

 _"You sounded distressed. I heard your cries. I came to answer them."_

 _"You came then, out of compassion for me?"_

 _"I suppose so, yes."_

 _"You are a student here, I see. But you are not of Slytherin House. What year are you in?"_

 _"I am second year. And I am of Gryffindor, though the Sorting Hat nearly placed me in Slytherin."_

 _"Why did it not, young one?"_

 _"Please do not be offended, but I asked not to enter Slytherin House. Some of those I had met from that House... well, I preferred not to be one of their number."_

 _"Ha!" the great serpent laughed, "no offense taken, young one. I've no doubt the Sorting Hat placed you properly in Gryffindor. No Slytherin would have walked in here up the center aisle, and carried on this conversation with me. At the same time, I see in you much that would have stood you well in Slytherin. But now, we have some issues to sort out, have we not? Such as how your friends there, and I, are going to get along?"_

Harry spun quickly to see that the entire "family" had apparently followed him down this rabbit hole. He was surprised that there had been no "mind speech" in this interim, and it made him wonder if that was somehow suppressed in the presence of the Basilisk.

Headmaster Dumbledore headed the contingent, as Pavel, John, Minerva, and Severus all accompanied him a pace or two behind. Harry couldn't see Oxsana anywhere, though he could see some movement in the entrance chamber behind all of them, and thought he spotted Ron and Hermione trying to keep surveillance on the adults without anyone noticing their presence.

Pavel cast a mind-mage spell that allowed for universal communication. The serpent continued to speak Parseltongue, but all could understand him, and he clearly understood human speech. The Headmaster walked up alongside Harry, smiled, and looked upon the great Basilisk graciously, while still holding firmly to his staff. _"Hail to thee, noble prince among serpents. I understand you were the companion to our Founder Salazar Slytherin? I am Albus Dumbledore, privileged to be the Headmaster of this institution at the moment. It is truly an honor to meet you."_

So saying, he gently turned Harry, and ushered him back a pace into the hands of Pavel, who placed one hand on each of Harry's shoulders, as Harry felt magic flowing through them covering his entire body. He leaned back against Pavel for just the briefest moment, affirming the strength and encouragement he felt, as the adrenaline rush of coming here had gradually given way to a return of sanity and with it a healthy dose of trepidation standing so close and so having been so alone with this mighty Basilisk. Harry now stood directly in front of Pavel, with both Pavel's hands on his shoulders, and his great cloak had come to drape itself down Harry's shoulders as well.

Dumbledore, in the meantime, had introduced his contingent, spoken of the history and recent history of the School, and had explained the presence, absence, and demise of Tom Riddle as the Basilisk had known him. The Headmaster then asked the nature, mission, and intentions of the Basilisk.

 _"Tom Riddle was a deeply evil young man," the wyrm began. "It grieves me not to know he is gone. He perverted me and my mission to his own twisted ends, and his contempt for those magicians with muggles among their forbears. Salazar Slytherin also held views about the superiority of pureblood families, but it is impossible to so circumscribe affairs of the heart such as love, to the dictates of eugenics. We serpents reproduce in great gatherings of diversity, and thus we remain strong over time. I did not agree with my master's view here, but he seldom sought my opinion on such things, either._

 _"My mandate has ever been to protect this school, protect the House of Slytherin, and test then serve the Heir of Slytherin when one should appear. Riddle was, indeed, an heir of Slytherin, spoke Parseltongue, and claimed the privilege of my service. He twisted it, exploiting my vows of servitude, and sending me through the school unguarded when he had gathered all purebred Slytherins safely in their tower, so that any students who encountered me accidentally would be harmed. I hated this. It was total corruption of my purpose, but I could do nothing to prevent it. I am relieved that he is gone._

 _"But I now need to await and test the worthy Heir of Slytherin."_

 _The Headmaster countered, "We would seek your aid, Noble One, in protecting the school from a dire threat."_

 _"And I should be most happy to give it, Headmaster. But it must come as a command from the Heir of Slytherin. I am bound to follow only such commands, until they are superseded by another, more recent, Heir."_

Harry started to step forward, felt Pavel's hand restrain him, and stepped forward anyway, calling out, _"Do you consider me a possible Heir?"_ Whereupon the Professor's hands firmly renewed their grip, as the old man stepped forward to shield him again.

 _"I would, brave lad. But you are a decided Gryffindor, and thus beyond the purview of my vows."_

 _The great serpent then raised itself slightly and looked into the faces of the standing professors, asking, not unkindly, "Incidentally, who among you is responsible for this boy?"_

 _Headmaster Dumbledore said, "that's a bit hard to say. I am his Headmaster, Professor McGonagall his Head of House..." as the Basilisk bowed in deference to Minerva, and she nodded in return. "But..."_

Pavel interrupted before Dumbledore could continue, _"This lad is my apprentice, and my heir in magic, as son to me. If he has offended you, or you have any issue with him, I shall seek to make reparation or expiation on his behalf. I am accountable and responsible for him."_

 _"No, indeed, good sir. Quite the opposite," the Basilisk offered. "His courage, his courtesy, and his character speak well both of your corporate guidance and the leadership of this school at present. The Riddle boy nearly made me despair of what Hogwarts had become. This lad, on the other hand, is a fine representative of all the Founders' hopes. If you are as his father, I wish only to say, deal gently with him over all this when you do. He has been the finest ambassador you could have sent to make first contact with me, coming as he did in compassion for my suffering._

 _"Youngster,"_ the great wyrm shifted to speak directly to Harry, _"it was very foolish to come alone to so dangerous a place. You are very brave, but know that these wise teachers around you will continue to train you to use better judgment._ _ _Know this,"__ and at this the serpent's expression became deadly serious, and the dark, saucer eyes gleamed with a baleful light, _ _"had you formally challenged me, in my Chamber, while bearing the mantle of the House of Slytherin, I would have been compelled to do everything in my power to destroy you, courtly manners or no. A truly regrettable outcome for all parties concerned."__ Harry paled a bit at the thought but, to his credit, managed to maintain his composure. _ _"I hope my_ words will reduce the consequences to which I suspect your elders will hold you accountable."_

Pavel relaxed his grip on Harry ever so slightly as he smiled and responded, _"Thank you, Noble One. And I assure you, I will weigh your words and your wishes very heavily when this boy and I settle this matter between us. You are very gracious."_

 _"As are you, sir. Thank you,"_ and the Basilisk backed up again, to continue... _"which yet leaves us with the dilemma, Who is the current Heir of Slytherin? It cannot be the boy, for he is clearly a Gryffindor. If you will put forth a candidate, I can test him or her, and should they prevail, the new Heir of Slytherin is in place."_

 _Dumbledore spoke, "Professor McGonagall and I were of Gryffindor House. Dr. Konstantyn and Master Constantine did not attend Hogwarts. Professor Snape, however, is current Head of Slytherin House..."_

 _"Then, it would seem, I am to be your opponent," Professor Snape volunteered, stepping forward._

 _"Noble One,"_ Dumbledore said, as he began ushering everyone to the side, _"if you plan to engage in combat, may I suggest that non-combatants move ourselves out of the way, that we not impede either of you, or risk accidental injury? If you will give us just a moment to prepare, we will not delay you for long."_ The Basilisk nodded, and backed off towards the vault door again. "Pavel, would you please call the children lurking in the entryway back there, and have them join us? And John, if you would place a portal from here to the top of that huge bust of Salazar Slytherin, I think our being up there and that far off to the side will not interfere with combat on this floor." In the meantime, both John and Pavel discretely wanded Severus with their most potent armor and warding charms, that could be done on the fly like this.

 _Pavel mind-spoke to both Hermione and Ron, "Come to us now, children. We know you are there, and I know you planned to take that portal back to the corridors and sneak back into our apartments which is where you are supposed to be. No point to all that now. You are safer with us here together, and we already know you've disobeyed to come. That is the least of our concerns for the moment. So come, now, do not delay us!"_ And the two of them came out from the wall they'd been hiding behind, and hurried to join Harry.

Severus had gathered specimens from the gigantic snake skin at the entrance, and bid Professor McGonagall tarry a moment, as everyone else stepped into the portal at the side wall, and exited atop Slytherin's stone carved head. John and Pavel spoke to the rock at the side of the cave wall, and, receiving permission, quickly formed a platform to support everyone and Pavel fabricated eisenglass from which John formed a clear crystal wall curving at the edge of the platform. This would allow everyone to see everything, but would protect them from both materials, weaponry, magical splashover, and... the deadly shades of light radiated from the raw gaze of the Basilisk. Pavel would not risk the lives of everyone there, on the continued largess of even so noble a serpent as this Basilisk.

Snape stood forward, wand in hand, as a palpable aura of power rippled briefly through the air. Even Harry could feel it; a sort of thrum deep in his soul that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. The professor's eyes were bound by a black silk handkerchief that obscured his vision. "Minerva, if you would," he said, as he handed Professor McGonagal the discarded skin of the Basilisk. "I prefer to see my opponents." She gave a nod of comprehension, then with a flick of her wand effortlessly fashioned a pair of goggles from the shed scales that had covered the Basilisk's eyes. She then mounted to the platform behind the shield, joining her colleagues.

"Well done." The Basilisk laughed softly to itself, a silky susurrus that echoed str _angely in the stone chamber. "And how did you know that trick would work?"_

 _"I only harboured suspicions it would prove efficacious," he said, in perfectly articulated Parseltongue, as he donned the newly transmuted goggles, "until, of course, you confirmed them."_

 _The Basilisk seemed to smile broadly, a truly grisly sight, as its eyes glistened with excitement. "Excellent! A worthy adversary indeed."_

"But, Professor Snape," Harry stammered in amazement, "I thought you couldn't speak Parseltongue!"

Snape eyed him with a disapproving stare. "I had the foresight to come prepared, studying the language ever since I learned it may be important. Obviously. You would do well to give some thought to such matters when next you decide to confront a dangerous foe... Alone... Without telling anyone of your intentions... In a secret chamber... that precious few even know the existence of." He practically spat the syllables.

The Basilisk loomed large and menacing before the defiant figure of Snape, and it seemed incomprehensible that this aged, robed mortal would offer any contest to the monstrous beast. For one moment that stretched to an eternity, Snape and the Basilisk were locked in a silent contest of wills, their expressions hard and resolute.

Then, with hardly a whisper of warning, the Basilisk's tail whipped behind Snape to sweep his feet from under him. Snape deftly moved to the side, apparently expecting something of this kind, and rapidly threw a potion he took from the fold of his cloak onto the stone floor, causing it to burst in a cacophony of shattered glass into a great shimmering silver mist.

The Basilisk, enraged at finding his ploy had failed, lunged at Snape with a suddenness impossible to be believed, its great jaws open and deadly fangs bared. Finding itself lost in the mist and unable to locate its prey, it seemed to realize the danger a mysterious cloud summoned by a wizard could represent, and hastened to retreat and disburse it with a few thrashings of its mighty tail. Then the saucer eyes fixed themselves once more upon the room, scanning every nook and cranny to pinpoint the location of its vanished target.

Smooth and silent as liquid mercury it glided across the wet stones, hugging the shadows, hoping to happen upon its opponent unaware. In this the beast was not disappointed, as it soon found Snape lurking in the darkness of a great arch, eyes intently darting about everywhere save behind him, where the Basilisk slithered ever closer. Just as it was about to strike, Snape suddenly turned and shouted _"Lumos Maxima!"_ as a nova of light erupted from his wand. The Basilisk recoiled before the onslaught, unable to shield itself from the searing brilliance, as Snape used unassisted flight in a flurry of cloaked darkness to the side of the monster where he thrust a hollowed steel stiletto, loaded with poison, beneath one of the monster's scales, muttering _"Intra Profundus"_ with a flick of his wand to hammer the blade deep into the soft, exposed flesh.

The Basilisk was clearly wracked with pain, but with an ancient and unconquerable will, forced itself to launch a focused blow with its tail right across Snape's chest, throwing him hard to the floor and knocking the wind from him. Looking now to finish off his adversary, the beast raised itself up to crush him beneath its incredible girth. Regaining his composure just in time, Snape snarled out _"Fulmenor!"_ as an arc of blackened lightning streaked from the tip of his wand into the stiletto (still embedded in the Basilisk's flesh) through its body, out its mouth and finally back to the wand tip, completing its circuit of devastation with a screaming thunder like the crack of doom.

Finally overcome, the massive creature collapsed on the floor, its defiant, unflinching expression betrayed by the increasingly feeble and uncontrolled writhing of its frame. Snape stood slowly, then walked purposefully towards the body of his fallen foe, and only those who knew him well could tell that the slow gravitas of his movements concealed his own incredible pain. He stared down at the ancient serpent, his wand poised at the ready before the great saucer eyes, and said coldly, "That poison was potent enough to kill a dragon. And there is more that I can administer, should the need arise. Only I possess its antidote." His mouth set into a thin line, every word now punctuated and crisp: "Do you yield?"

The Basilisk, though bearing suffering beyond enduring, still managed to force a grimaced smile. "I yield, worthy and rightful Heir of Slytherin."


	47. Calm Before the Storm

**Calm Before the Storm**

Pavel watched, again with both hands on Harry's shoulders, as Severus released his bindings on the magnificent Basilisk, and administered the promised antidote. Mind-speaking, he said, _"Severus, you are totally familiar with what we seek from this noble wyrm, are you not?"_

 _"I am, and the Headmaster is yet here as well," he responded._

 _"I think I will return home with the children then, and you can join us as soon as convenient? John will help speed your recovery. I'm sorry we did not think to put more substantial protections on you ahead of time. We didn't anticipate your entering direct combat this evening,"_ the old man apologized.

 _"Nor did I, kind, sir. No problem there," Severus chuckled mentally. "I shall be up shortly then."_

"O Noble Wyrm," the Professor called out, "By your leave I shall excuse myself to return these children where they belong," he shared a mild glare at this point. "It is an honor to have met you, and when our business is finished in the next few days, I would be most grateful to take time just to discuss history and the times you have seen. I teach the History of Magic here, and I cannot tell you how pleased I am to have made your acquaintance."

"That will be my pleasure, Professor Konstantyn," the Basilisk replied, when he was restored to full motion and coordination. "I enjoyed meeting your young man, as well. And it is good to see that he has companions determined not to desert him, regardless of potential consequences," he chuckled in a sibilant undertone, "Am I right in supposing that they are also Gryffindor?"

"Indeed they are, Noble One," Professor McGonagall answered. "And they will soon be reminded that rules not to leave their quarters without staff escort or permission apply to them as well as any other student," she fumed.

"I see," the Basilisk nodded in their direction. "Well, I look forward to getting to know all of you better, when that is possible. Now, Heir of Slytherin and Headmaster, what service would you have of me?" and he turned his attention to Snape and Dumbledore, who now both stood before him down on the floor.

"Ivan," the Professor spoke to John alongside him, "please open a portal from here to our quarters, then perhaps you and Professor McGonagall can join the conference right there, and all of you join me when finished. I'm sure Oxsana is somewhere here, stealthed in whatever position would give her most advantage against the Basilisk had that become necessary. Just port up to meet us when you are finished."

"Right, Papa," Ivan said, as he opened a portal door in the wall of rock that would take people to the Konstantyn apartment, and stepped with Minerva through the other portal to join Severus and Albus.

"After you, children," Pavel said, herding Hermione, Ron, then Harry before him through the homebound portal.

* * *

No sooner had they gotten to the parlor, as Pavel stepped through the portal behind Harry than Harry spun around grasping him firmly about the waist, begin to tremble violently, and weep. Ron and Hermione were concerned, and started to approach to comfort him, asking what was wrong. Pavel shook his head to them, as he patted Harry's shoulder comfortingly, and suggested they just go occupy corners until Professor McGonagall arrived. They nodded, and shuffled to their assigned places.

"I believe this is just an 'adrenaline crash'. The emergency is past, Harry performed brilliantly overall. But now that everything is safe again, it has all just hit him. I believe Professor McGonagall has laid claim to your correction, so I think awaiting her there in your corners will help reduce her ire when she arrives."

He then guided Harry over to the little sofa before the fireplace, and sat down with him. "Harry?" he spoke gently, returning the boy's hug, "It's all OK now. We're home. We're safe. You did very well. You can relax."

"I'm so sorry, Professor. I could have gotten you hurt, or killed... or Professor Snape... or any of us," Harry sniffled. "I deserve to be in trouble. You're probably going to kill me."

"No, Harry. I'm not even angry. Are you in trouble? Well, yes. But only for two wrong things. And we'll deal with that in due course. But we were going to have to meet with the Basilisk anyway. And Professor Snape was going to wind up tested by him, no matter what. You didn't make any of that happen. Your actions only affected the timing of that meeting, not its necessity. And... by the way... your maturity and courtesy made that encounter go much better than it otherwise might have. You did very well," the Professor smiled, patting Harry's back, as Harry dared look up with his tear-streaked face.

"Really?" Harry asked, doubtfully.

"Really. There were many 'right things' in that whole event. And, of course, there were a couple 'wrong things' as well. But I wasn't even planning to deal with those until this weekend."

"But isn't everybody mad at me?" Harry sniffled.

"Possibly," Pavel chuckled. "You made two wrong decisions that I know of, but I don't even know all the circumstances of that yet, so I cannot say much. I suspect Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape are rather focused on your being there without authorization or backup. And I'm sure they'll have a thing or two to say about that. But we'll see. Whatever comes about, we are here with you, you are safe, and we'll get through whatever comes together. So, calm your fears, and release your guilt. All right?"

"I'll try, sir," Harry calmed his breathing, holding on to Pavel's chest as they sat on the couch. When the tears and trembling stopped, Harry released the Professor and wiped his face. Taking a moment to compose himself, without a word he simply walked to the nearest unoccupied corner and planted his nose in it. "Good plan, my son. I shall be in my Study if anyone needs me," and so saying, Pavel exited.

When, a few minutes later, the rest of the contingent arrived, they did find it most disarming to enter facing three little Gryffindors standing contritely in their corners. Seeing Harry's red rimmed eyes, and still sniffly breathing, _Minerva mind-spoke to Pavel, "Have you punished the children?"_

 _"No. Harry and I had a little talk, as he was upset and showing just a bit of shock when we first arrived home. I wanted to let you, or Severus or Albus deal with any school or rulebreaking discipline you chose. If I get a 'note home', that will be an issue I shall address. If I do not, I'll consider the 'rulebreaking' settled. Afterwards, I can see to any domestic concerns. Your field is fully clear."_

 _"I'm thinking of having the three of them in detention Monday, cleaning the Owlery, for breaking the safety rules traveling without escort."_

 _"That seems very fair and compassionate. They know they've done wrong. They expect some consequence, and I myself have always been partial to messy chores."_

John spoke aloud, "I think, before anything else, perhaps we should do some healing on Professor Snape, eh? The children are fine where they are for the moment, don't you think? Papa, can you join us for a moment?" Pavel came out from his Study, as John ushered Severus and any who wanted to accompany him, to the open space in the center of the room. This was frustratingly just beyond the peripheral vision of the children, bringing a sharp syllable of correction from Professor McGonagall as they tried discretely to turn for a better view.

John asked that any who wanted to join the circle, just take hands, as they surrounded Severus. John grasped Oxsana, who grasped him and Pavel, who grasped her and Albus, who grasped him and John. Each of them had substantial Life arcanum magic, though none as much as John. He pulled their ring of hands up barely to touch Severus' shoulders, closed his eyes, and began to hum as his hands, and then the hands of all of them, began to glow with a bright golden radiance. Then, ever so slowly, John drew the ring of their hands downwards along Severus' body, from head to foot, bathing him and his black Victorian robes and jacket in that same golden light. When they reached his feet, as they all squatted there, John's eyes opened and he thanked them all as he released their hands.

"There you go, my friend. Sorry I couldn't help during the duel. Figured the Basilisk might have considered it 'unsporting' and had a bad reaction."

Severus twisted, turned, rotated his arms and shoulders, "John, I swear... you have GOT to show me some of these spells you cast. That is amazing. I feel better than I do first thing in the morning! Can we bottle that, please?"

John laughed, "Well, if anyone can, it will be you, O Potions Maestro! But I'm glad you're recovered. That was a bloody good fight!"

Pavel cleared his throat with a swift look towards the children.

"Sorry, Papa. All right then!" John clapped his hands sharply. "Waifs! Front and center, right here. Time to take your medicine! Headmaster? Professor Snape? Professor McGonagall? Who seeks to reform these delinquents?"

The children jumped at John's sharp clap, and hurried over to stand before the faculty. Both Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore said they would defer to the authority of the Head of Gryffindor House.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley? Did you clearly hear me tell you to come here and stay here while we went to join Mr. Potter in the Chamber?" Minerva queried in her best inquisitional voice.

"Yes, Professor," they chorused.

"And did you then disobey that instruction, and follow us to the Chamber, trying to remain hidden sneaking along?"

"Yes, Professor."

"And did you clearly understand my earlier instruction that there were NO exceptions to the rule that students were not to travel about the Castle without a supervising adult?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Well, do you have anything to say for yourselves?"

"Well, Professor," Ron ventured, "only that we weren't traveling without escort, exactly. I mean, we weren't 20 meters behind you, and if we'd been attacked or anything you all would have been right there!"

"The boy has a point, Professor," John had to chime in, in his most serious judicial voice.

Both Pavel and Minerva turned to grace John with an eloquent look that said his participation here was neither welcome nor helpful.

"As to how Mr. Potter got there, I believe I will leave for Professor Konstantyn to address. But you too, Harry, are aware of the rules and subject to them. Therefore, come Monday, the three of you will have detention beginning immediately after your last class, when you will pick up from my office the tools and equipment you will need to begin cleaning the Owlery from top to bottom, without magic."

This drew groans and a bit of whining complaint from all three, whereupon Professor McGonagall amended, "If you have any problem with this punishment, I will be more than happy to send notes home, and let your parents or guardians address the matter instead. Any takers?"

"No, ma'am", they all agreed, ending their protest.

"Right then. I think there's been enough excitement for one day, no?" Minerva said.

"If you have no objection, Professor McGonagall," Pavel began. "I should like Mr. Potter to spend the night here in his room. He and I yet have a 'little chat' to get through." _And then Pavel mind-spoke to her, "and he's rather recovering from the whole thing. I'd rather have him here where I can keep an eye, lest he have nightmares or problems in the night."_

"That's just fine, Professor. I'm sure he can meet up for Professor Snape's detention in the Common Room first thing tomorrow. Now, as for you two, I know it's only 8:00 p.m. Amazing how time flies when you're battling a Basilisk, eh? I want you up to your rooms, changed and in bed immediately. Consider it punishment if you like. No conversation, no dawdling. Straight to bed with ye! Understood?"

"Yes'm," they looked sufficiently chastened as they headed with her to Harry's door.

"I'll be back momentarily," she spoke to the group as she escorted her charges out.

"Harry?" Professor Konstantyn said, "go to your room and change for bed. You may read or do anything quiet in bed until I call you."

"Yes, sir," he acknowledged a bit miserably, as he scuffed towards his room.

Minerva walked back in as the six of them clustered in the comfy chairs near the fireplace. Wilfried didn't wait to be asked before popping a try of tea, coffee, desserts, and hard spirits onto the coffee table before them.

"Bless that elf," Pavel breathed with a smile, as he sat in his favorite chair. "I'll not keep you long. I just wanted to compare notes and see if we're on track for Friday. Anyone have anything?"

"Well, I just want to apologize, Papa Pavel," Oxsana began. "I obviously let Harry get away from me, but I'd have sworn he was heading back here when we parted, and following the Basilisk, if we detected him, was a part of my mandate as well."

"Indeed, Oxsana. I think you did exactly what you should. There seems to be something about the magic of that Basilisk, that interferes with both mind-speech, and can also influence the free will. It's not as strong as an _Imperius_ Charm, but I think he can create a nearly irresistible impulse. I gather that when Harry left you, he fully intended to return here. But then he heard more from the Basilisk, triggering his compassion, and decided to pursue that. Even if he had the thought to speak with you or with me, I'm not sure it would have gotten through. That's why I'm trying not to overreact to his behavior yet. I haven't got all the facts. But you, Oxsana, seem entirely in the clear."

"Thank you. I felt terrible, of course, when I saw him come in. I'd managed to maintain stealth and position myself where I thought the Basilisk would appear, as Harry opened the vault door. I was never so relieved as when I saw you all come in so soon after him. I wasn't sure I could control that Basilisk if I had to try with Mind Control. He is incredibly powerful, for a beast."

"Don't make that mistake, Oxsana," Albus said. "That is no beast. That is an intensely sentient very powerful magical creature. Salazar Slytherin never suffered fools gladly, and for him to provide the kind of companionship I know would be required, he has to have a truly formidable mind."

Severus spoke, "I went over our plans with him... I wonder what his name is, anyway? He seemed to understand everything perfectly clearly, and as to Stoian Petrov... well, he'd consider it his greatest honor to put that bastard out of his misery. He considers taking a bounty to kill a child to be the mean act of a craven, worthy of no respect or honor, even as an enemy. He seemed," Snape tried to suppress a slight smile, "particularly pleased to find his 'reintroduction' to the society and culture of Hogwarts in such a dramatic fashion."

"Oh, that's wonderful, Severus and Albus. Thank you so much for making those arrangements. As to his name... I got a slight hint of it, but it is so strongly 'Parseltongue', I don't think any of us are equipped to articulate it even if we tried," Pavel chuckled. "All right then, I think the only thing left to take care of, is to confer with Aragog. Ivan and I will try to do that tomorrow, when perhaps Hagrid can accompany us. Thank you all, so much for your cooperation and care of the children. I think things will be considerably less stressed, quite soon."

And they all poured one or another stiff drink, toasted one another's health, downed their refreshments, and headed homewards. John and Oxsana asked if Pavel had further need of them, and he laughed, releasing them to Oxsana's apartment for a bit. He and Harry were going to have their "little chat" in his Study.

 _He mind-spoke to Harry, "Please join me in my Study."_ He slowly removed his outer robes, formal attire, and jacket. He put a lounging robe on over his waistcoat, shirt, and breeches, and sat down much more comfortably at his desk, as Harry was walking in in his pajamas and bathrobe. The Professor indicated Harry should sit down in one of the chairs by his desk, and said, "So, tell me all about it."

Harry held his nerve pretty well, while he reviewed the evening from hearing the Basilisk in the dungeons, to the point where the Professors joined him. Harry inquired, "You said there were two places I got in trouble. What were those? I'd think the whole thing was me getting in trouble."

"Not really, Harry. You made good decisions through much of the situation you were presented with. Remember, I hold you accountable for decisions you make, not necessarily what results from those decisions. You were in deadly peril, yes. And when we chose to follow you, we placed ourselves there as well, yes. But you didn't say to yourself, 'I think I'll put myself and my friends in deadly peril.'

"As to the first wrong decision, I need to ask you, when Oxsana told you to come home, did you intend to come home?"

"Yes, sir. I started to head to my portal for here right away."

"What changed your mind?"

"I heard the Basilisk cry out, he sounded afraid or like he was lost. I felt like he needed help, and I could help him."

"All right. Now, this is very important to me, Harry... Did you choose between two clear alternatives: that you could go home as instructed, OR you could go to the Chamber of Secrets? Did you have a moment where you knew you could do either one, and chose to disobey? Or did the option to come home seem to disappear, so you only had the choice of going to the Basilisk?"

Pavel could feel the conflict in the boy, as he took a deep breath and steadied his voice to say, "I made a free choice, Professor. There was definite pressure to go, yes. The serpent's voice was 'pulling' on me in some way, yes. But I also remember thinking, 'if I do this, I'll probably get in trouble, but I'm mostly within my rules, so I'll be ok.' I made the decision to disobey Oxsana."

"Thank you for your honesty and courage. Telling me the absolute truth is incredibly fundamental to our relationship and everything we do together, Harry. Thank you. Nothing is worth jeopardizing this trust between us. So, yes, that was a wrong thing. That was disobedience, in that Oxsana gave you a clear command for your safety, and you disregarded it in favor of what you later considered a better idea. That is partially mitigated by the facts that I am certain the calls you heard that changed your mind were enhanced with persuasive magic, and also that I believe the Basilisk's communication interferes with mind-speak to some extent. At least enough to keep you from thinking to use it to check with me or Oxsana on what you should do.

"The second thing I hold you accountable for, I suspect you don't even recognize or remember. Your first misbehavior was to disobey Oxsana. Your second was to defy me directly. Do you know how and when you did this?

Harry knitted his brows in confusion. "No, sir. I don't remember defying you at all. I don't remember you giving me any orders through the entire encounter."

Pavel smiled, "Not all orders are verbal, my son. Do you remember when I put my hands on your shoulders and added another shield to you?"

"Oh, yes. I'd started to realize where I was and what I was doing, and that Basilisk... I was so way over my head, I started to get a bit scared. When you did that, I felt so much better. I felt safe, and lay back on you to let you know. It felt so good when your cloak draped down over my arms, and when you said you were as my father. I felt like I wasn't alone, or like I'd never have to be alone again. It was a really good feeling, and one I've seldom felt before."

"Correct, Harry. And then, you recall when the Basilisk was seeking the Heir of Slytherin? You started to step forward to speak, but my hands pulled you back. You recall this?"

"Yes..."

"But then, you resisted my grip, and stepped forward anyway, asking the Basilisk if you were the Heir, stating your willingness? And I stepped forward with you, to support and shield you again?"

"Yes..."

"That, Harry, that step forward in resistance to my grip... that was defiance. No words passed, but my will was clear. You'd started to step forward and I pulled you back. You knew, in that moment, you were to hold your position. But, you decided differently, stepping forward and speaking in a manner clearly contrary to my will."

"But, sir, you could have pulled me back. You're stronger than I. And you could have muted me as well. I've seen you do such things. Why did you leave it up to me?"

"Of course, I could, Harry. But what's the point of that? Obedience and trust have to be a choice. There's no point to my 'forcing' my will on you. That's disrespectful, and deeply contrary to everything we stand for. You are not to behave or obey because you are a puppet or a robot, Harry. You are a young man of reason and free will, and you will decide your actions from moment to moment. Unless your very life is at stake, Harry, I have no desire to take your choice from you. I will, however," he smiled, "hold you accountable for those choices!"

This was so hard for Harry to grasp or understand. The Dursleys had always wanted to make Harry's choices for him. They'd never have made their will known, then waited to see what Harry would choose to do on his own. As he pondered this, he realized, "Wait, wasn't my life at stake? The Basilisk said if he'd accepted my claim as Heir, he'd have had to try to kill me. After seeing Professor Snape fight him, I'm sure he'd have won against me, easy!"

"The Basilisk was mistaken, in that he didn't realize the nature of our Vow and Bonding. You could not give your own consent as Heir to be tested by him. Only I can give such consent for you. And I would not. As I'd told him earlier, I stand accountable for you, even as to reparations or expiation. Had he insisted upon testing you, he'd have met me instead. I would, and will always, unless I consent otherwise, stand in your place. He is of old and deep magic. He would have recognized the legality of my claim. He could not touch you once I was there.

"So, there you have it, Harry. The two misdeeds of which I accuse you... disobedience to Oxsana, and by extension to me, as she carried my authority when she is protecting you; and defiance of me in the presence of the Basilisk. Now, the Basilisk himself petitioned for grace and mercy in dealing with your misbehavior, and I assured him I would take that into consideration. Other mitigating factors include the influence of the powerful mind magic of the Basilisk, interference with communication, extremely good judgment in choosing formal courtly courtesy in dealing with so dignified a creature, and yielding to your elders when we arrived.

"Have you anything more to say in your defense, Harry?"

"No, sir," he looked down at his toes.

"Would you rather have these matters dealt with by Professor McGonagall or Headmaster Dumbledore, than I?"

"No! Heck no, sir!" Harry pulled a face of scorn. "This is stuff between you and me, nobody else. Well... 'cept maybe Oxsana, for the first one. But this is a matter between 'prentice and maestro, not Gryffindor or even Hogwarts. I'm in your hands, sir. And I'll take whatever's due."

"Very well, then. As I do not want this to be an issue of foreboding or suspense while we try to focus on vastly more urgent matters this week, I will tell you your penalties, even though they'll not be carried out until next week. For disobedience to Oxsana, you will be grounded to your quarters with silence for two days, beginning Monday. For defiance of me, you will be grounded to your quarters with silence for three days, beginning Wednesday. When grounded you are denied all privileges and pleasures, including all recreation, extra-curricular activity, liberty, and even pleasure reading or sweets. You may go to class, eat, sleep, study, and manage your hygiene. Nothing more, nothing less. As to silence, you will initiate no conversation at all, and speak only when spoken to. Even when spoken to, you will keep responses brief and to the point. Do you understand these conditions?"

"Yes, sir," he answered, a bit surprised at so 'mild' a punishment. "Um, Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?" he smiled, reading the relief and light confusion coming from Harry.

"Is that really 'it'? I mean, it seems just a bit, um... well... gentle."

"Yes, Harry, that's really 'it'. Two things: first, you are accustomed to very harsh punishment with anger from your home. That is NOT what this is about. This is meant to express my very clear displeasure at unacceptable behavior, and to give you time and opportunity to practice the self control and management to feel your loss of liberty and yield to the authority that grants your privilege. Second, you will find, in very short order, that this is indeed a 'harsh' punishment. It doesn't seem so, but the loss of social outlets, and free communication, provides constant reminder that one is being disciplined, as impulse after impulse has to be resisted to stay within the confines of the restriction.

"So! There you are. Nothing to be afraid of. Nothing fearful waiting in the shadows. But nothing to worry about until next week, anyway. So, go to bed now, rest well and deeply. Tomorrow we have a lot of schoolwork to do. So... go on with you! I'll come tuck you in in a few minutes."

Harry hopped out of his chair and headed to the door, turning as he got there, "Professor?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Would you tell me a story as I go to sleep?"

Pavel laughed, "All right. If you're in bed and ready when I get there. No dawdling now! _Begone waif!_ Scoot!"

"Thank you!" Harry called, as he bounced off to his room.

 _"I've got to be losing my touch," Pavel laughed, sitting back shaking his head. "Little boys should not be bouncing to their rooms with a 'Thank you!' after a 'little chat' in my Study! Definitely losing my touch!"_


	48. Finishing Touches

**Finishing Touches**

"Wakey, wakey, Squirt!" came John's cheery voice as Harry pulled his warm blankets back up over his head at 5:50 the next morning. Peeking out from beneath them, he whined as he looked at the Tempus floating over his glasses on the nightstand.

 _"Maaan... why so early?"_ he mock cried, in response to John's irrepressible cheerfulness.

"Two reasons: One, you've had more than enough sleep, since Papa made you go to bed early. Two, you like to dawdle over your cocoa and danish. So, I'm giving you more time to hang out at the table before you go to face the redoubtable Professor Snape. Besides, Wilfried made something special for your morning treat, and he won't tell me what it is, or serve it 'til you get to the table, so... get a wiggle on, Little Brother! Go soak your head!" and John stood aside, like a valet, holding Harry's clothes to head to the shower.

Harry saw he wasn't going to get rid of John by outwaiting him, so... griping and moaning all the way... he stood up, pulled on his robe, slid his feet into his slippers, and snatched his clothes from John. John simply bowed, like an humble house elf, making Harry laugh... and swung a playful swat at his brother's bottom, as the boy successfully dodged and headed off to wash.

On returning, Harry quickly wanded his room neat, grabbed his bag and made sure everything he'd need was in it, then dashed to the table to check out his treat. Cheerfully, he greeted Oxsana who was seated at the table, sipping a cup of coffee. She gave him a quick hug and waited for him to select his choices first. He found, sitting there before him, a plate of assorted wonderful German pastries, but on one plate all alone was a stack of something he'd never seen before. It had a small card labeling it "Streuseltaler", and they looked like six inch pizzas, but had a cake-like base, with a fruit filling, streusel topping and icing drizzled on top. The one he had with his cocoa was heaven, and he found himself wondering how many he could hide in his bag before he noticed John staring at him, shaking his head.

"I'm sure there will be some here for tea this evening, Harry. Last thing you need is to turn in some homework coated in THAT, whether to Papa, Professor McGonagall, or Professor Snape. And you know it would happen, you've got all three of them today! I just wish I knew how you managed to get Wilfried so firmly in your corner! He takes better care of you than he does Papa, and he takes outrageously good care of Papa!" John laughed. As 6:15 rolled around, John started herding Harry - now again wearing Oxsana around his neck - out to join Ron and Hermione, and together they got to the dungeons.

"Good morning, children, and Inquisitor Brezynski," Snape opened, as he gave a brief bow to the flicking of the forked tongue from beneath Harry's collar. Ron's assignments for the next two days were above the Professor's desk in glowing letters, Harry had two more potions on his list of medicinals for the Infirmary, and Hermione was ready to carry on with her Polyjuice Project.

As Harry walked into the lab after putting down his bookbag, he stopped, turning towards Snape saying, "Professor, may I say something before we start?" Snape gave permission. "Two things, really. One, I apologize for going down there on my own last night, and making it so you had to fight the Basilisk. Two, that was an incredible fight, and it was so exciting to see. I never knew you could use potions like that!"

"It was bloody brilliant, Professor..." Ron blurted suddenly, then returned to his bookwork just as suddenly, hoping his compliment would slide by without comment.

"Yes, sir, it was! I had no idea you could fight like that," Hermione echoed.

This emotional outburst of admiration and contrition utterly derailed Severus' snarky plan to be snidely aloof all morning, in order to convey his own disapproval of their misbehavior. He found himself strangely warmed by their expressions of admiration. Quite spontaneously, Hermione started applauding, joined by Harry, and even Ron stood up to join in. But there are limits to even Snape's patience, whereupon after the briefest nod of the head that may have been a bow, his stern voice barked, "Enough stalling! Now get to work!" Smiling as they turned from his view, they all did.

* * *

Morning classes went by smoothly and comfortably. Professor McGonagall didn't seem any more stern to them than she ever was in teaching. It was a relief that they didn't have to feel or act all hang dog until Monday, and after a few minutes they forgot about any awkwardness.

As class finished and they were heading to the Great Hall for luncheon, Professor McGonagall called them over to say, "I want to let you know that Professor Konstantyn, John, and Hagrid will be away for the noon meal, making some arrangements for tomorrow in the Forbidden Forest. They wanted me to let you know that they'll be busy and generally unavailable to mind-speak with until classes begin this afternoon. If you have an emergency need, you can call of course. But otherwise, you can speak with Oxsana or me or Professor Snape if you need something. All right?" They nodded that they understood, curious, but not upset or nervous. "The Professor said he'd see you all in class and at home for tea and homework after class."

"Thank you, Professor," they chorused, as they headed to the Great Hall.

* * *

In those same moments, John and Pavel entered Hagrid's hut, only to emerge from the back as Pavel's gray wolf and John's raven. They could all speak together through Pavel's maintained mind link, and Hagrid looked on with mild envy at the ease with which these mages shifted form for convenience. They wanted to meet and confer with Aragog. It was their hope to interest Aragog in motivating his numerous ravenous offspring to cover every inch of the Forest once Petrov was gone, to consume the three minions that should be there somewhere. It seemed poetic justice for these spiders to gain from the plotting of exploiting the Chamber of Secrets. After all, it was Riddle and the Basilisk that had driven Aragog from the Castle, and disgraced Hagrid.

Hagrid was briefed and prepared to negotiate with Aragog on their behalf. Or, alternatively, John and Pavel could transform into acromantulas, whether larger, smaller, or same size as Aragog. It was difficult to tell if that would create a need for combat, competition, or... if gender were involved... what the outcome might be. Hence, Hagrid was Plan A, and they'd see what might be needed for Plan B. They did, however, keep up a very hefty shield about them as they approached Aragog's lair, to avoid any... potential misunderstandings.

"Aragog! My old friend!" Hagrid bellowed in his ever-cordial manner. "How are you? How are the young'ns?"

"Wonderful, Hagrid! And how are all of yours?" the huge spider replied.

"Just fine, just fine. Still a bit shy about your kind, but I guess considering your brood's appetite that's all for the best."

"I see you've brought friends. Greetings, Friends-of-Hagrid! I gather they are just here for a visit, eh. Not an offering or a snack?"

"No, indeed. These are esteemed visitors, and they come with some good news about some old business. I'd like to know if yer interested in cleaning up some debris in the forest, and providing a bit of a 'snack' for some of your young'ns, along with clearing up some old misunderstandings between the Castle and you 'n me?"

"You intrigue me, Hagrid. Go on. What have you in mind?" Aragog continued, in what can only be described as a "conspiratorial" voice, if one can have such a tone with the size of a small house.

So, despite the crowding about of scores of apparently "curious" young acromantulas ranging in size from medium dog to small cattle, Hagrid cheerfully outlined their invitation that once Petrov was disposed of, his minions should become both visible and effectively powerless. Aragog's offspring were welcome to dispose of them in any way they saw fit, and that those people were in league with the Tom Riddle who had tried to do away with them five decades ago. Riddle, Hagrid was happy to report, was no more. And he turned to credit John with his destruction, which secured Aragog's good will towards John immediately.

Aragog was all for the plan, up until Pavel reminded Hagrid to warn him, "Oh, yes. Aragog, we're going to be bringing in a visitor, just for a short time, who will actually be doing away with the assassin Petrov, and you and yours may want to avoid him. He'll not harm you, nor anyone else here, I assure you. But still, he's not of a kind you're normally comfortable with."

"What do you mean, Hagrid? There's nothing in this Forest we fear. We respect the domains of the various tribes who live here, but we don't really fear anything here."

"Aye. I knows that. But, as I said, this will be more a 'visitor' just here for a brief period, then he'll be heading back to his home, his normal den."

"And where is that? And what is the nature of this 'visitor'?" If eight lidless eyes could be said to narrow with suspicion, this would be the time.

"Well, old friend. His den is deep below the Castle. He's the Basilisk of the Chamber of Secrets. But... but..." Hagrid stopped speaking a moment as Aragog's chelicerae clacked together loudly in irritation, and the chorus of his surrounding young did the same. They also began to dance about nervously, in a manner that even the stalwart Hagrid may have found a bit disturbing, were he not ensconced in a force shield stouter than bullet-proof glass. Hagrid just waited for peace to settle again. "The Basilisk means you, nor anyone here, no harm. He is as old as the Castle itself, and sworn to her protection. He'll not harm you, nor any of yours. You have my word on that."

"Well, Hagrid, you've never misled me, nor failed of your word. We will, then, help you." Aragog entoned.

"Wonderful. Tomorrow morning I shall come to you, and show you where to hide your youths. There will be some other people here who are not to be harmed. But we shall see to it your prey is clearly marked, all right?"

"That will be fine, Hagrid. Thank you for your visit, and for yours too, Friends-of-Hagrid. Perhaps we shall all meet again, some time."

And the trio withdrew, uncertain of whether they had just been invited to dinner one night. As the main course.

* * *

The History of Magic class went in unexpected directions today, as the Professor chose to discuss _"How to Win at the School Game"_. He began with asking how School was similar to Gaming. As students volunteered good answers, such as "you often start with incomplete information", or "you accumulate points to succeed", he would award points, as usual.

From there, he strongly suggested students pull out their notebooks, journals, or note parchments and take down what he was teaching. For example, he, as a Professor, used both "lecture" and "practical application". When a class is primarily lecture, the easiest way to excel on examinations was a simple mind trick. If a lecturer "told stories", as he did, then take notes writing down the story as quickly as they could keep up, and still be legible. For example, most students could write down one sentence of notes for every three sentences of story he told. So, by the end of a one hour lecture, most students would have about 30 inches or so of lecture notes, depending on how neatly and tightly they wrote. Now, there were two ways to use those notes, one very smart, the other not so smart.

Depending on how often there were tests - as for example he gave a test about every ten lectures, so they would have about four tests through the term - if a student counts the first lecture after a test as Day One, and reads those notes, those 30 inches OUT LOUD to themselves privately - bathroom, or outdoors somewhere others wouldn't overhear or tease - that would take them about 3 minutes. After the next lecture, Day Two, they should start from the beginning of their notes, Day One, and read all the way through to the end of Day Two. That would take 6 minutes, more or less. They'd then have heard the first story twice, and the second story once. This goes on through all ten lectures. On that last day before the test, they'd have heard the first story ten times, then next nine, and so on. The last day's study would only take them about 30 total minutes it took to read through their notes OUT LOUD that last day. They would, this way, probably ace the exam because they'd heard the first story so many times they could tell it in their sleep, and the last story they just listened to him tell the class before. This was the smart and easy way to study... not much time spent at all, just gradually getting through it. The foolish way to study, even with excellent notes, was to just save them all up until the week before the exam, and then try to sift through 300 inches of material to figure out what would be on the test, or try to memorize the lot. Neither strategy worked as well as the gradual hearing, over and over again, of the stories.

He asked how many students wanted to try his "out loud" system, and how many did not. The class split about half and half, and not even particularly according to House. Half or so of Slytherin AND Gryffindor thought the out loud every day system would work for them, and half preferred not. He circulated two parchments, asking that each student pick a style of their choice and list their name, promising that after the next test he would post results anonymously, so they could make more informed choices for the future.

He intended, over the next two weeks, to show the students how to take notes for various class styles... like how to split their note books, journals, or parchment into columns for making illustrations of practical skills on one side, and narrative and comments down the other. This was a useful technique for charms or transfiguration, where you have wand movements or grips involved, or for arithmancy or potions where you may have equations or process steps, and then description or explanation involved for those steps.

A number of students, in every house, found themselves very excited and pleased with these lessons. They wanted to know how to "win at the school game", but few teachers bothered to teach the "how" of learning. The Professor also pointed out that his tests were very time intensive. There may well be some matching or fill in the blank questions, but half of the test or more would be essay questions.

Speed therefore became an issue, along with a certain amount of "guesswork" on part of both student and teacher. When he asked an essay question, he was looking for certain critical bits of information to be included in the answer. Sometimes, whether because he was not clear enough with the question, or because a student just read it in a way that took their mind in a different direction, a student gives an excellent answer that reflects real command of the material, but does not quite state the critical bits he is looking for. Then, he has to make a judgment whether to give the credit or not. He has to "guess" whether the student knows what he wants them to know, of if they don't. There is also the simple fact that some students get "test anxiety" when faced with an exam, and their mind just clicks at half speed, even though they know the information thoroughly.

Therefore, he makes an unusual option open to any student with the courage to take it. Whether they are having trouble interpreting a question, or if they are having trouble getting down all they know in the time limit, any student can ask to take an exam orally, rather than written. This was a double edged sword. If a student truly knew the material, and struggled with either clarity or time, an oral option allowed both him and the student to clarify the question and for him to ask specifically for the critical facts he is looking for. He had no doubt that there were times he gave credit on written exams that was unearned, because a student's answer was "so close to right" that he mistakenly assumed they knew the information. An oral option removed this "mistaken boon" of undeserved points. BUT, for any student who truly knew this stuff cold, an oral option removed tremendous pressure and tension, because it turned into a "discussion of the stories" as a pleasurable exercise. Any student could take this option simply by raising their hand when they received their test, at which point he and the student sat at his desk above the lecture pit, behind a muffling shield, and talked the test through.

The last point he went over was the "Student's Right to Choose their Grade". Every student knew, every day, what their current Term Grade was. By the time Midterm Grades - advisory grades, distributed to each Head of House - were calculated, based on two tests and all assignments up to that time, any and all students with an Acceptable or below on their current Term Grade, was to make an appointment to see Professor Konstantyn in his office. He believed that every student has a right to choose his/her grade. If a student was earning a failing grade, wanted to fail, intended to fail, and was happy to fail... that was fine. The Professor would not stand in their way. BUT, they had to be able to look him in the eye, privately in his office, and tell him that. If that was NOT what they wanted to do, then the two of them would work out what was causing the problem and see if a solution were available. He was equally open to such an appointment even if a student were earning an Exceeds Expectations, but wanted an Outstanding. "Normal curves" meant nothing to him. He'd be thrilled to turn out a section of 100% Outstandings, if scholastic performance merited it. It seemed the unfortunate case, however, that in any given group of students, there were those absolutely hellbound to fail. And he'd not disappoint them, if so.

Students left his classroom that day all abuzz with plots and plans, of how to manage their classloads differently. He would wait and see. There were always some that truly got it, and applied this new information. And then, there were the others. He laughed to reflect on Severus' term "dunderheads", who seemed determined not to grow, no matter what.

* * *

By the end of the day, he was more than ready to sit at the dining table working on grading essays and calculating the daily marks, with the children doing their homework over tea and biscuits. He found it soothed him greatly, just to sit quietly with them and answer their questions here and there. So much would be riding on tomorrow, he was going to enjoy the peace and quiet of tonight. Homework, tea, maybe some chess, then last minute consultation with the group over Supper at the High Table, and then... if the children were finished with their schoolwork for the week... nothing but recreation at home tonight before bed.

They all needed to unwind and relax. Severus and Minerva were welcome, but only if they could play a respectable game of Monopoly, chess, or backgammon. Or perhaps Cluedo? Now THERE's a game he'd like to play against Severus! He'd see, after Supper!


	49. Having a Field Day

**Having a Field Day**

Ron and Harry actually rose before the alarm went off. The Professor had required of all three children that they take a swallow of Dreamless Sleep when they retired. He knew, as keyed up as everyone was about this Field Day, there would be no chance otherwise of a solid night's restful sleep. They cleaned up and dressed in hurried silence, meeting Hermione a few minutes early and heading to the dungeons very much on their guards.

Professor Snape was nearly cordial as he greeted them this morning. He cautioned them to pay close attention to their work this morning, it would be easy to be distracted or careless, and they were to ask questions about anything they were unsure of. Ron completed his written work, and chose to help Harry with his last medicinal potion, rather than just sit around. Even Hermione chose to wait until they could all go back together, as they planned to change out of their school uniforms before breakfast. Professor Konstantyn had allowed Ron and Hermione to keep their armor jackets from skiing in the Ukraine, and he'd instructed them to wear them thereafter under their school clothes. He reminded them to be wearing them today.

"Have you any advice for us before this all gets started, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"Not really anything you don't already know," Professor Snape answered, without a hint of sarcasm or attitude. "Two things strike me as important for you, and possibly difficult. One, that you go through the day acting naturally. This is a 'Field Day', a play day with fun and activities all through. Students, you included, should be focused on just having a good time worried about nothing more than winning any competitions you enter. You really want to put all your concerns about this afternoon's battle way up on a shelf, and not get it down until the time draws near.

"The second thing I would stress is that this is the first time you are engaging in an 'operation'. That is, your adventures up to now have never been more involved or complicated than the three of you coordinating your activities at a current moment. And you've been pretty effective at that. But this time, we have people operating from Romania, from London, from the Castle, and from the Forbidden Forest, all according to an agreed upon schedule. This requires blind trust to timing, and that requires that everyone do what is expected, precisely when scheduled, from precisely where they are supposed to be. So, there may well develop some unexpected situation that requires spontaneous decision and action. But other than that, it is critically important that no one depart from the script. No 'bright ideas', no dawdling, no improvising... not unless absolutely necessary. There is more than enough risk to this without creating more, agreed?"

"Yes, Professor," they all answered, nodding.

"So, for the moment, just go upstairs, change into your play clothes, have breakfast, and literally... have a good time. There's nothing more for any of you to do until we get to the afternoon. I think you may find some surprises at the Field Day..." he said mysteriously, walking away with a smile.

* * *

The cacophony of juvenile voices at breakfast was almost overwhelming. Fortune had graced the school with a bright sunny day, with just a hint of coming frost in its brisk wind. The mood was holiday merrymaking as uniform of the day was declared to be play clothes/casual and family and friends were welcome on campus from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. The house elves had outdone themselves with food preparation as two long serving tables were kept filled with food, snacks, and drinks.

In the early morning hours, the Konstantyns had been busy with Albus, terraforming the school grounds to allow for six new "fields", as flat oval greenswards, to allow for ball games and spectator benches surrounded by containing wards to keep random balls from flying elsewhere, some dueling lanes, and a "carnival lane" of canvas booths for games. The Weasley Twins had been recruited to manage the games booths, and turned out bright and early to help with set up. A number of older students had been recruited to manage different activities, and would serve only an hour at a time, to allow them to play or compete as well. Only the "caretaker students" knew what the activities would be, so when the school gates were opened for everyone to enter the grounds, most of what they saw was a complete surprise.

Competitions would include: Egg and Spoon racing, on brooms, where competitors would complete a course of variable difficulty depending on their skill level. There was a Water Bucket Relay Race, that teams could enter, having to pass a full bucket of water from one broom rider to another while navigating a course - this was judged not only by time, but by how much water remained unspilt in the bucket. From 1:00 to 3:00 there would be straight up broom racing, like Steeple Chase, through courses graded by difficulty. There were also Time Trials, through a course of hoops that would test riders' control and agility. The best time in each category would be awarded at the end of the day.

The carnival games had been designed primarily by John and Professor Flitwick, testing magical and wand control through tests of dexterity. There was a "Wingardium Leviosa" Game, where the competitor controlled a small broomstick riding doll through a course of hoops, rather like the Time Trial Races, and again the course difficulty depended on the skill of the contestant. A first year may find five fairly large hoops in a straight line, while a sixth year would find fifteen hoops of various sizes in a very difficult pattern on a much longer course. There was a marksmanship game that required shooting water from the wand to douse dancing flames, without getting areas of the backdrop wet.

Every student was given a wrist bracelet with their name, so that they could "sign up" for an activity or game that had a long queue, and go off to enjoy other activities while waiting. When their place was five from their turn, their Bracelet would sound an alarm, and they could return to play what they were waiting for.

Prizes were awarded. John had brought his experience of American Muggle carnivals to the festivities, so that winning at various games accumulated point tickets, that could be redeemed at a Prize Booth. Prizes included a variety of sweets, books, toys, House items like neckties, beanies, pennants, patches, and there were some Premium and a Grand Prize... The Grand Prize was a "Get Out of Detention Free" card, good for one detention anytime in the year. Premium Passes included a "Free Homework Pass" card, good for a missing homework assignment.

Not all of the competitions were wizard or broom based. There were competitions for muggle type ball handling as well, reflecting skill in cricket bowling, cricket batting, baseball pitching, baseball batting, soccer kicking, football throwing, and football kicking. These contests were based on both distance and accuracy. Kicked balls were aimed down a measured line, given credit for distance, with off-line distance deducted. Thrown balls were first measured like kicked balls, but then another second round aimed at target tyres at various distances.

Activities were open to both students and visitors, and there was much laughter as children got to compete with their parents, getting to demonstrate what they had learned in Charms or general wand management.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione first made a quick sweep through the entire fete, giggling and gasping in wonder at all the color and creativity that had gone into this. Harry kept up almost a running commentary to Professor Konstantyn, as he discovered all the unexpected treats and games. Pavel "forwarded" all this to the rest of the conspirator faculty, who had also worked hard and secretly to make this a delightful event for all the students. It was great to hear the appreciation of pulling off a true surprise. John had lined up some Auror colleagues from the United States, New Zealand, and Australia, to work the various game venues, both because they knew the games, and for further security backup as they were briefed on what would be happening later. Aurors everywhere knew the name "Petrov", and were more than happy to assist in bringing him down.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry spent their first hour or so playing the various games on the Alley, accumulating point tickets. Much to the boys' chagrin, Hermione outstripped them by miles. She may not be as fast or strong in her magic, but she was precise. She made few mistakes and wasted no time. By the finish of a game, she'd normally beaten them handily. They were happy to cash in their tickets as soon as they accumulated enough for some Chocolate Frogs, or other treats. She wanted to save hers up for the day and see what she could get with a total lot.

There was a great pool of water with draped signage over at one side of the fair, with only one sign that announced the event would commence at 11:30 and no other information. When students inquired of any faculty member what that was about, they'd be met only with a knowing smile and the response, "Wait and see." It became a mysterious buzz throughout the fete, but no one could figure it out.

Hermione didn't choose to race or obstacle course on her broom, but she was willing to try the egg and spoon race, though she bypassed the water bucket relay. Gryffindor House got up an impromptu team, including the Twins, Ron, Harry, and even Neville Longbottom. Professor Konstantyn had spent a good amount of time on free flying Wednesdays, working with Neville on his balance, confidence, and focus. He'd become a fair-to-middling good flyer. He may not be up to Quidditch standard yet, but he wouldn't be spilling any water from his bucket, either. The Gryffindor team scored very well on their run, and that prompted other Houses to pull teams together and give it a go as well.

Competitions, such as the races or broom events, won House Points for prizes. The Obstacle Courses and Time Trials would win House Points, and riders were separated into divisions by skill ranging from novice to expert. Quidditch players on House teams were automatically considered Expert. Each division had a time limit by which to finish their competition runs... novices were to finish by 11, beginners by 12, moderate by 1, skilled by 2, and expert by 3. Each competitor could make three attempts at the course, and keep their best qualifying round. Everyone who completed the course with a qualifying round - no missed hoops - was awarded House Points for participation, even if they did not place. Pavel was delighted to see that Neville completed the course in the Novice class, and made a quite respectable showing. He hoped he would place.

The dueling lanes received considerable attention. A number of students chose to duel their parents, making for a great deal of laughter and fun. Some students chose to work out old grudges there. Some "tournament play" was permitted, where a student who won could choose to take on up to the next four qualified challengers. After a fifth win, the student was retired, with house points and recognition as a champion. Perhaps later in the term, champions would be organized into a tournament for the school. Malfoy took a lane, and chose after his first win, to opt for competition as a champion.

Harry decided to disabuse him of this, making the first "unpleasantness" of the day, as he let Pavel know of his intention to duel Malfoy, and was forbidden.

 _"What do you mean 'no', sir?" Harry whined, caught a bit off guard, as he and Pavel argued by mind-speak._

 _"I mean, 'Don't duel Malfoy' today, or at least not yet, anyway."_

 _"Why not?!"_

 _"The reason you are not to duel him, is because I command it, and you are obedient. The reason I am commanding it, is that there is the off chance you could be injured. Not much chance, but some. We cannot afford for you to face the battle this afternoon with any injury. John and I cannot protect you 'unfairly' in a duel. That would be dishonorable, and ordinarily I have no problem with your taking your chances in a fair fight with Malfoy. But not today."_

 _"So, you don't think I could beat him without getting hurt!"_

 _"I DO think you can. In fact, I KNOW you can. I've seen you do so repeatedly. But that does not change the fact that there is a possibility, especially out here where his father would be watching, that something could happen to injure you. John and I would have to break cover to prevent it or correct it. Oxsana could not help you in a duel or protect you. This is simply not the time for you and Malfoy to enjoy your mutual feud. I hope, truly, that you can understand that and agree with me. But whether you do or do not, I urgently need you to obey me. There's just way too much going on here, far too much at stake, to run that risk. Will you trust, and mind me, Harry?"_

 _"Yes... sir..." Harry muttered, clearly unhappy._

 _"Thank you, my son. Now, I think it's about 11:30 or so. If you're through being angry with me, I've a surprise for you. Go over to the water tank and get a good seat."_

At 11:30, a fanfare sounded, and Headmaster Dumbledore announced that a new activity was being unveiled, as some fireworks went off attracting everyone's gaze to the water tank. The drapes came down, and a sign "Dunk-A-Prof" was exposed. A 3 meter diameter clear water tank, with a wooden plank suspended from one edge to the center about 2 meters above the water's surface, had a long arm attached to a target about 3 meters out to the side.

Professor Dumbledore climbed the steps up to the plank, walked out to the end over the center, and used his wand to announce, "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. Ten competitors will have the opportunity to drop me into this water tank, based on your throwing skill. Depending on your age and skill level as determined by the magic of the ball, you will stand at your assigned distance, and get three throws to hit the target. The target, and the distance, will vary depending on skill. Every half hour, a new staff member will take this place. Those will include: Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, Professor Konstantyn, Professor Flitwick, Madame Hooch, Master Constantine, Instructor Hagrid, and... most kind in volunteering on this... Mr. Filch. Mrs. Norris is excused from the competition."

This raised a raucous cheer from the entire assemblage, as more than one adult voice was heard to mutter, "I wouldn't mind taking a shot at... myself!" Professors McGonagall and Snape were most often heard, completing the sentence.

This brought Minerva's rich brogue in response, "I heard that! And I know who it was, too!" prompting laughter all round.

At this point, Headmaster Dumbledore sat down, with great dignity, straightened the skirts of his robe, and waited calmly to be plunged into the depths. The Weasley Twins were monitoring the queue and balls, and announced loudly, "Each participant will only get ONE go at any professor, until all have had a chance that want to. So, think through if you want to line up for the Headmaster, or another staff member later, because once you've gone, you're done, probably for the day."

At this point, a number of older students came off the line, preferring to try for Professor Snape on the next go round. Harry had already decided he wanted to try for Professor Konstantyn, so he signed up on that sheet, and trusted his bracelet to tell him when to appear. Ultimately, the Twins got lists for every teacher or staff member, and had each student who signed up roll a "Random 1000" with their wand, putting that number down. They would take the lowest 10 results, as random draw, to select those who got a go. The Professors would exit the pool soaking wet, if they were dunked, and dry themselves off by wand. They would allow all 10 their turns, even if they were dunked. Considering the queue, they didn't have the heart to turn away any of the 10 in line. The event, through the course of the day, turned out to be a great hit. On average, each staff member dropped twice. And they were great sports about it.

* * *

At a few minutes past 12, Professor Konstantyn was surprised to find Adrian Pucey's bullying alarm going off, with the warning that someone was attempting to assault him.

 _"Of all the possible times," Pavel said to himself, as he split off one segment of his consciousness to attend to the alarm with full attention and consciousness, even while his body continued monitoring Novice riders on the obstacle course._ Instantly, he appeared in the form of a 3 meter tall black dragon, with flame red eyes and smoldering nostrils, translucently overlaid on the person of Adrian Pucey.

He found himself facing a pudgy, middle aged wizard in rather drab robes of forest green and brown, who had marshalled Adrian to a quiet area behind the Field House. He knew the nature of the bullying by the type of alarm that had gone off, and he could see the panic on Adrian's face, flushed, hyperventilating, nearly tearful. "Adrian," Pavel mind-spoke, "you are fine now, nothing bad will happen to you. Not now, and not later. You may go now, return to your friends, and forget about this. You will never see this man again, I guarantee it." And the dragon gently patted Adrian on the shoulder, and let him go his way.

The offender, nameless, staring at the dragon in shock, found himself suddenly pulled from the environment of the Hogwarts grounds, onto plain flat featureless ground surrounded by glowing light that seemed to have no source. It was as if he stood on a desert covered over with black starless night sky, and radiance from the horizon without any sun or moon.

"Wh... who... or what... are you? What's going on? Where am I?" the man stammered, drawing his wand with his right hand.

"As to who, or what, I am... You may consider me to be either your conscience, or your worst nightmare. Nothing else is relevant. As to where you are... you are in my clutches and we are going to have a little chat. I don't know who you are, and I don't care to know. You really don't matter to me that much. But that boy does. He, and all the children here you have looked upon with such desire this morning, are all under my protection. I know what you want. I know why you came. And that, stops here and now," the dragon walked in slow circles around the terrified man, speaking in slow, measured, tones.

"You are a very lucky man today. You will live. Were we in a different place, or a different time, you would not. But because we are here, and I'll not shed your blood on this ground, you will live through this."

"What do you mean?!" huffed the visitor, trying to puff out his chest and bluff his way through this boldly. "Don't you know who I am? How DARE you speak to me this way!"

At which point, the dragon stood, spreading his wings to their full extent, towering over the little man opening his jaws to show the fiendfyre within. If the visitor thought a posture of intimidation was going to help, he had lost that battle handily.

The dragon continued, "I thought I had been clear. I neither know who you are, nor care. That is actually something you should be glad of. Now, I'm not going to waste much time with you. Here is what you need to know. I care not how you spend your own private, personal, recreational time. I don't care about your reading habits, or what you view. But you will never again assault a child, nor use one for your pleasure. Not that boy, nor any other child on the face of the earth for as long as you live. Do you understand that?"

"Who do you think you are, to say such things to me? You can prove nothing! You can't go making wild accusations..." and suddenly his voice would not work any further.

"I told you, I am your conscience and your nightmare. I make no accusations. I need no proofs. Behold..." and suddenly, memories flooded the man's mind, as time after time he had pleasured himself at the expense of some child. The visions would have sickened Pavel, had he not been Inquisitor and Magistrate for as long as he had. He'd come to witness such memories as one counts weights into a scale over time. In this case, he held no formal office, so he was free to function purely in the realm of Mind Mage. "Now, am I understanding that you would rather we go to the authorities, and make them aware of the memories you hold, perhaps with the assistance of Veratiserum? There are Aurors here among the marshals and monitors, I'm sure we could attract their attention if you prefer?"

"No... no... that won't be necessary!" The pudgy man replied. He'd never been subjected to this kind of treatment. He was a wizard of means, with community standing and good solicitors. He was so well insulated politically he considered himself untouchable.

"Fine. Then you place yourself at my mercy then?"

"Yes, yes, whatever. Just get this over with. I want to leave."

"I'm sure you do. And I don't want to deal with you any longer than necessary either. Very well then, your life will change rather dramatically from this day forward. Extend your left arm."

"What?"

"I said, 'Extend your left arm'. Push it away from your body."

"Why?"

"Because, I'm going to bite you. You are going to be injured. I've selected your left arm since I observe that you are right handed and I don't want to incapacitate you."

The man paled, and began to shake, "But why, why bite my arm?"

"Because I need you to believe that this happened when I return you to Hogwarts. Your arm will be incapacitated for about 6 to 8 weeks, though there will be no physical injury. If you seek relief at St. Mungo's or some medical center they will find nothing wrong, and tell you you are hallucinating. Which will be, technically correct. If you follow their recommendations and seek psychiatric treatment, they will conclude that your hallucinations are guilt-based, which will also be technically correct. You see, I am going to be with you for the rest of your life. Any time, and every time, you think about Adrian Pucey, you will see me in my most frightening form, standing guard over him in your mind's eye. In fact, you will see me appear in your mind every time you even think about touching a child.

"Should you ever be foolish enough to interact with a child, bait them, have someone procure one for you, or touch another, then I will come to you again and I will remove from you a body part. Normally, I leave it up to someone's choice whether they lose an eye, a hand, or a foot. In this case, the choice is already made and a rather obvious part. Though, I have been told it can improve one's singing voice if that is of any interest to you.

"Am I making myself perfectly clear?" the dragon hissed, in an even more threatening voice.

"I don't believe you. I don't believe any of this. I must be dreaming. This can't really be happening," the pudgy man said, shaking his head as if trying to convince himself that none of this was real.

"I know you don't believe this... hence my bite now. This is only a warning, and a proof. But once you believe, it is important that you remember all that I've said. Interfere with another child, and I shall visit you again, wherever you are, wherever you hide. Touch another after that, and you will disappear forever. And I never EVER break my word. You can believe this. Now... EXTEND your ARM!" and these last words were said with an irresistible "voice of command", making the man stretch his arm out, even as he tried to prevent himself from doing so.

Pavel then walked slowly up to the man, stooped down a little, and crushed his massive jaws down engulfing the offender's left arm from elbow to wrist between his massive fangs. The scream torn from his victim's lips would have curdled milk, as the man fell to the ground writhing and clutching his arm to his body.

Pavel stood dispassionately over this man, watching him writhe, roll, and weep... wondering if he had ever shown compassion to the children he had made weep across the years. He waited, patiently, until the man quieted down a bit.

"Do you believe me yet?" the dragon asked, in an almost bored voice.

"What?!" the man screamed.

"Do you believe me yet? That this is all quite real, and do you remember what I've told you, or must I repeat it?"

"No. NO! I believe you. I don't know how you're doing this, but I believe you!"

"Good, because I have other places to be. Now, nothing you can do will accelerate the healing of that injury, or reduce its pain. You will simply have to wait until nature heals you, as I say, in about 2 months. But you will always carry that ache with you, as a reminder. Stand up now and get control of yourself. No injury will show, and people will think you mad. I want to return you now. I shall deposit you outside the wards of Hogwarts at the Hogsmeade bridge where you can apparate home, if you can stand the pain, or you can get a floo from Hogsmeade. Are you ready?"

The man was standing, still clutching his shattered arm, but showing only the etched lines of miserable pain on his face, as he said, "Yes, yes, I'm ready."

"Fine. Now, remember what I've said. You never want to meet me again. Goodbye... for now." and Pavel touched the man's head, and the offender opened his eyes on the Hogsmeade Bridge.

He had hoped it had all been some sort of terrible dream or something, but when he tried to bend his left arm, the shooting dagger-like pain of what clearly felt like broken bones set the sweat pouring from his brow. Apparation seemed out of the question, so he chose to head for the floo at the Three Broomsticks.

 _Pavel took one more moment to mind-speak with Adrian, "Are you all right, Mr. Pucey? Did he upset you very much?"_

 _"No, Professor. He'd just come up on me, and pulled me around there. Then you showed up right away. Thank you, so much," and there was a gush of intense gratitude in those last words._

 _"More than welcome, young sir. I doubt you'll be troubled by him, or anyone he knows in the future. Please let me know if you need any support along the way. I'm happy to dissuade bullies, of any stripe," and Pavel smiled in his voice._

 _"I will, sir."_

 _"By the way, have you tried to Dunk a Prof yet?"_

 _Adrian laughed, "No, sir."_

 _"Well, if you get the chance, I'll be up soon. You could see if you can dump me in the tank if you like."_

 _"Sounds like fun. I may try it. Thanks again."_

 _"All right then, go on having fun! See you later."_

* * *

Harry was still not real pleased about having to let Malfoy strut around like a peacock because he could defeat 5 duelists, and what made it worse was that his father, Lucius, was strutting just as big. Draco had already defeated three opponents, and others were hesitant to try. He'd gotten down to take a break and get some food. The referee told him they'd flash his bracelet when they had another opponent willing to fight him. Lucius had dragged poor Dobby along, to fetch and carry for them, probably just to show off that he had so frightened a house elf. Dobby caught Harry's eye in the crowd earlier, and managed a sneaked wave, before Lucius kicked him in the direction he wanted to walk. After today, Harry wondered if he'd have much chance to see Dobby, since Lucius was behind the plot of the book and the Basilisk, and they were going to settle all of that in the afternoon.

It got him thinking... He had to save Dobby. And probably, he needed to do it today, right now... since Lucius might not be hanging around as much or bring Dobby once he found out the Heir of Slytherin business was settled. But what to do? So he stopped a few minutes and settled down to think and plot. He was in the carnival alley at the time, and his eyes drifted over to the premiums booth... and an idea struck him.

Bah! Would he get in trouble? Would there be risk? OK, settle down, Harry. THINK!

 _Would he get in trouble?_  
Not if he cleared it first.

 _Was there risk?_  
Some, but not too much given the crowds and all.

 _Could he get hurt?_  
Probably not, given the witnesses here.

 _Could there be other harm done?_  
Maybe political. It would be good if Hogwarts staff had plausible deniability.

 _Professor Snape said not to go "off script" or do anything unplanned.  
_ Maybe with a hypothetical, the Professor Konstantyn would have a solution.

Harry decided to get on his broom, and go speak to the Professor, who was also flying at the time. He didn't want to do this by mind-speak for some reason.

"Professor, do you have a moment?" Harry asked, a bit tentatively.

Pavel could feel some nervousness, and misinterpreted, "Sure, Harry. Are you feeling anxious about the Forest?"

"No, sir. I need you to approve an addition to the schedule, because I need to do an extra thing. But, I want you and John to have plausible deniability, so I can't tell you exactly what I want to do. Is that ok with you?" Harry thought that had sounded so much better in his head a minute ago.

"Well, it's hard to say with so little information, Harry. This isn't a really good time for departing from the plans we have already made. Is this something we could look at another day?"

"I don't think so, no, sir."

"I see. And it's important to you?"

"Yes, sir. Very."

"Well, you've planned with me enough to know my concerns. My first concern is, could you be hurt?"

"I don't think so, sir. I would make a wizard angry, so I suppose that could have a risk. But in a crowd like this... and I'd certainly be sure we were in a crowd at the time, I don't see how he could do anything harmful or extreme."

"I see. I'm just not comfortable telling you to go ahead with something, without any knowledgeable backup."

"Tell you what. You've let me do things you didn't know about, if John knew all about the plan, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, Oxsana isn't officially here, so she wouldn't need plausible deniability. If I explain everything to her, and she feels it's safe, have I your permission?"

Pavel thought about this a moment, intentionally deciding not to consult with Oxsana, though he knew she could hear and understand this entire conversation. "All right. Oxsana is an excellent tactical and strategic planner, she knows you and your capacities. And she knows and understands everything about the risks here. If she approves, I approve. But you must be completely transparent and up front with her, you understand?"

"Yes, sir. Completely. Give us just a minute," and Harry took off to discuss all this with the snake wrapped around his throat under the turtleneck cuff. "Oxsana, you're a Mind Mage too, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Like the Professor?"

"Well, he's stronger than I, and can do some things I cannot. But I am a Master Mage of the Mind Arcanum, yes. And an Inquisitor, as was he."

"Right, so if I invite you to see some memories in a few seconds, you can do that like he can, right?"

"Oh, yes. That's not hard."

"OK... here's the information..." and Harry showed her all his encounters with Dobby, including Dobby putting him to bed that night, and how dearly Dobby has tried to protect him. He showed her Lucius' cruelty to Dobby, not knowing Oxsana had significantly more information on Lucius that put him even lower on her "favorite person" list. Then he showed her exactly what he had in mind to do about it. And he was open and honest about any risks he could anticipate. She may know of others. "So... what do you think? Can we do this, safely enough?"

"I don't see why not, Harry. As you point out, he'd be very foolish indeed to try anything in a crowd like this. And in private he's already conspiring to kill you. And if he pulls a wand or loses control, I am more than adequate protection, especially knowing the risk ahead of time. Yes, Papa Pavel would approve of this. And with Lucius on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts, it is wise to keep this to ourselves until it is done. I'll vouch for this plan," Oxsana agreed.

"Great!" Harry exclaimed, as he headed back to Pavel. "Oxsana agrees. I'll just sit here while you two talk a minute."

 _Oxsana mind-spoke, "Harry has a good plan. He's probably right on the timing. This would best be done now. There is minimal risk, and I shall be right there if needed. I believe you would approve. I'll be honest, I don't think you would LIKE it, knowing all the facts. But as to risk, you would approve."_

 _"Very well. I trust you both, so I approve. Will I be getting any 'notes home' on this?" he smiled._

 _"I don't think so, Papa Pavel." Oxsana laughed as she said, "I don't think he's even going to break any rules... this time."_

"All right, Harry. This project is approved. Do you need anything?" Pavel asked aloud.

"Only one thing, sir. Can you make..." and he fumbled around in his pockets for a piece of scrap parchment... "this into a book that looks just like Riddle's Black Book for me? You know, the black leather cover, and old parchment pages inside? It doesn't have to say anything, just look identical to that Book."

Pavel took the scrap, laid in carefully between his hands, and watched as his hands glowed and a twin of the Black Book appeared between his hands. This did not make him any more comfortable about this project, but he'd promised to trust them, and he would keep his word.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, as he took the book, and placed it in a pocket of his cloak. "and for trusting us."

"Yes, well. You just be careful, the two of you. And let me know when you are finished. Is it alright if I watch from a distance?"

"Absolutely! I'd appreciate that a lot!" Harry answered.

 _Pavel nodded as they flew off in different directions. He mind-spoke, "Ivan? Harry and Oxsana are up to something. I've approved their plan and am trusting them, though I don't know what exactly they are up to. Maybe help me keep an eye on them from a distance? We have time before the Tank or other things."_

 _"Right, Papa. Be right up." John responded as he summoned his broom._


	50. Let's Get Ready to Rumble

_Pavel nodded as they flew off in different directions. He mind-spoke, "Ivan? Harry and Oxsana are up to something. I've approved their plan and am trusting them, though I don't know what exactly they are up to. Maybe help me keep an eye on them from a distance? We have time before the Tank or other things."_

 _"Right, Papa. Be right up." John responded as he summoned his broom._

After Harry made a quick pass by the Premium Booth on the Carnival Alley, it didn't take long before Pavel and John saw him hanging out near the dueling lanes, and heard Draco start taunting him. "Oy! Potter! What's the matter? Lost yer nerve? Afraid of getting whupped in front of all these people?"

Harry kept his cool and answered back, "No, I'm going to be racing in a little bit. Just conserving my strength. Save me a spot on your dance card, Malfoy, and I'll wipe the floor with you after the race."

Pavel realized, that would be all right. He'd forbidden Harry from dueling before the encounter with the Basilisk, but afterwards should be fine. He felt Harry's mind quest to his, to check if this was agreeable, and he affirmed quickly that it was.

"You seem very confident, Mr. Potter," Lucius said, in his oily silken tones. "A shame you lack the courage to face Draco."

"Oh, it's not a lack of courage, sir. I just have better things to do for the moment. Oh, and that reminds me, I think you lost this earlier. I want to return it to you," as Harry handed him the copy of the Book.

"I... lost this?" he said, innocently turning it in his hands. "I don't recall ever..."

"Oh yes, Mr. Malfoy. You sneaked it into Ginny Weasley's cauldron at the bookstore in Diagon Alley at the start of school. I watched you do it, though I hadn't noticed too closely at the time. You'll find it's not so interesting a tome as you thought it was. Rather dull, actually," and he backed up a pace from Malfoy.

Rather than lose the valuable artifact, Lucius shoved it to Dobby to carry, as he turned back to pay attention to Draco trying to drum up another opponent.

"Open it!" Harry mouthed to Dobby, when he looked up at him.

Dobby opened the book at what appeared to be a bookmark, and found... a necktie. A Gryffindor necktie, bought with tickets at the Premium Prize booth.

"Master has presented Dobby with clothes," the little elf gasped in amazement. "Master has given Dobby a necktie. Dobby... is... FREE!"

Malfoy turned in irritation saying, "What are you babbling about, you little cretin? I gave you no cl..." and he stopped as he saw Dobby pulling the necktie from the book.

"Oh, sorry, sir," Harry said innocently with a completely straight face. "I was using it as a bookmark. Must have forgotten..."

Lucius was livid and, disregarding the crowds around him, started to draw his wand from his cane, saying, "You lost me my SERVANT."

But before his wand even cleared its sheath or Oxsana could fully unwrap from Harry's throat, little Dobby moved his hand towards Lucius shouting... "You will NOT hurt Harry Potter!" and sent him spinning backwards 3 meters through the air.

Lucius arose with all the dignity he could muster, muttering something about having slipped on the grass, as bystanders wondered whether they had actually seen him starting to draw down on a schoolboy. Draco was struck speechless, as Dobby walked over to Harry and started hugging his leg. "Let's go, Dobby," Harry said, as he swept his cloak out and over the two of them, walking away towards the Carnival Alley. "We walk, don't run, Dobby. It's all over now. You're free and don't have to be afraid of him any more."

"Harry Potter free Dobby! How can Dobby ever repay you?" the little elf simpered.

"Just promise me one thing. Never try to save my life with a bludger again!" Harry laughed.

"Promise!" Dobby said solemnly.

 _"All done, Professor," Harry mind-spoke, trying to sound as businesslike as he could, despite his elation._

 _"I see that. Well done, my son. Now invite Dobby to come clean himself up at our place, and I'll see if Wilfried can get him properly attired. After that, he may pass the time however he wishes. We'll speak with him at the end of the day about his options."_

 _"Yes, sir..." Harry acknowledged, as he passed the information on to Dobby._

Time passed smoothly, Pavel and John "served their terms" at the Dunk Tank, only swimming once for Pavel and three times for John. It seemed students were a bit more motivated for John. Oxsana coordinated things mentally with her staff in Bucharest, as the clock clicked towards 3:00 at the Field Day. Pavel had the Expert Steeplechase timed for 2:50, and the Basilisk awaited his mental signal to exit the drainpipe into the Black Lake.

All the conspirator faculty were keyed in mentally together as the countdown started. Oxsana's Mind Mages would enter the trap clearing at precisely 3:00 p.m. linked to the three minions, and allow them to reach out for sympathetic connection to Petrov at that time. Three other mind mages would work through those minions to draw the other three thugs, who they had been unable to locate in the Forest, or were flitting back and forth between the Forest and Knockturn Alley, to join them. Oxsana had made mental contact with Aragog, and his offspring were hidden throughout the Forest, awaiting his signal to begin hunting Petrov's goons.

Everything was ready, and at 2:50 on the money, the Steeplechase started. Harry wanted to win very badly. Malfoy was in the race as well, but Pavel had made sure that Harry understood the priorities here. Winning was fine, if that was how it turned out, but the real priority was to be finished and heading towards Black Lake at 2:58 to intercept the Basilisk. Whether the race was over or not, whether he and Draco were mixing it up or not, the ONLY thing that mattered, was that he get to that Basilisk. Pavel would keep him appraised of the Basilisk's position as he was coming out, so Harry could time his intercept. Harry would wear Professor Snape's protective goggles throughout the race, so that when the time came for the Basilisk to remove his protective membranes, he would not even accidentally be harmed by its gaze.

Madame Hooch was the starter for the broom race. "READY... STEADY... GO" *Whistle Blew* and they were off! There were eight riders total, seven of whom were on house quidditch teams. The eighth was an excellent rider who just had no interest whatever in quidditch. Harry guessed there was no accounting for taste. There was a little bit of bump and grind through the turns, but nothing as severe as his first ride with Pavel... at least for the first of the three laps. As he started the second lap, Pavel informed him, the Basilisk was beginning his exit. Harry zoomed through the straightaways, but that's where everyone did well. It was in the corners that Harry had to gain any serious advantage, and so far he and Draco were leading the pack.

As they approached the last turn into the third lap, Harry lost sight of Draco and thought perhaps he'd fallen back. But just as he started his tight turn, he saw Draco coming up from beneath him, apparently determined simply to unseat Harry, without any regard for making the turn himself. Perhaps Draco was even willing to lose, as long as it meant Harry lost, too. Fortunately, it seemed Draco was unfamiliar with an Immelman, so Harry just overshot the turn pylon by a bit, did a rearwards loop, and inverted at the top, sending Draco with all his momentum built up to ram Harry... sailing wildly off in the wrong direction.

In his head, he heard Pavel giving him a countdown, he had less than one minute to get to the Black Lake drain point. If he could cross the Finish Line on the way, all well and good. If not...

Harry had two more turns to get through before the Finish Line, and he lay down atop his broom like he'd been poured onto the stick. He flowed all his adrenaline, anxiety, passion, and concern for this mission into his broom... using his imagination to put a jet drive afterburner on it. The broom responded, taking the straightaways at speeds no one had ever seen in person before. He then visualized each flip turn as perfectly executed, and the broom seemed to respond to that, too.

He cleared the Finish Line first, as he heard Pavel's voice in his head counting down... _"Ten... nine... eight... seven..._ _six... five..."_ as he now hovered over the drain exit, and could see the dark shape of the Basilisk rising beneath him. He did one small turn over the spot, trying to look casually curious for onlookers, before the great monster broke the water's surface, creating a medium sized tsunami that inundated students too close to the shore. At that point, Harry dismounted on to the "neck" of the Basilisk, just behind the eyes... and sent his broom to shore, while the Basilisk turned and swam unerringly towards the Forbidden Forest.

Albus adjusted the Hogwarts boundary wards to now allow through only the faculty and Aurors that had been programmed, as all the conspirators flew or blinked to the Trap Clearing. Pavel had duplicated the protective goggles for everyone, who donned them as they got to the clearing, even though the Basilisk was still in "safe mode". Oxsana had extra pairs for her men and the thugs as they arrived, and at 3:00 precisely, all was in readiness, and the transmissions started to draw Stoian Petrov into the trap.

The three minions were in firm control, calling to Petrov that they had escaped and lured Potter into the Forest. He could kill him here. Petrov heard the calls immediately, and sent the three assassins who were with him, to come to the glade where he was told Harry had been lured, and check things out. When they apparated in, Pavel lent his power to assist Oxsana and her additional mind mages immediately to insinuate themselves into the minds of the lackeys, to send the message, _"Yes. Yes he's here and we can hold him, but he has some enchantment that won't let us transport him. If you come, you can kill him."_

No one even seemed to breathe among the conspirators, Aurors, Mind Mages... even Harry, as they waited for Petrov to appear.

And then, gradually, there appeared a shimmering light, as Pavel had spread a screen of Prime to detect incoming magic, and finally... there he was... Stoian Petrov.

Harry stood atop the Basilisk, as Petrov stood looking at the boy riding what appeared to him to be simply a large snake.

"I understand you've been looking for me. Well, here I am... and here's looking at you!"

In that moment, the Basilisk opened his eyes fully, and even with the protective goggles, the yellow-gold flash of deadly magic was breathtaking to behold. Petrov had opened his mouth to shout back some challenge, but the Basilisk simply bent his head to get a clear gaze with both eyes down on this two legged monster, and the air froze in his lungs as he literally turned to stone. No one had ever seen such a thing before... well, except for the Basilisk, of course. But fairy stories, like about trolls caught in sunlight or whatever, don't do the phenomenon justice. It was horrific to see. One moment, there was what seemed a living, breathing being, and then the next... naught but a statue.

Stoian Petrov... was dead.

Pavel first spoke aloud. "Thank you, O Noble Wyrm, for this great service. You may, please, shield your gaze again, lest any mishap befall," he paused while the nictitating membrane again covered the Basilisk's eyes.

Professor Snape strode forth, "Thank you, from all of us. Would you care to return with us to Hogwarts now, and be properly introduced to our students and faculty? We are honored by your presence, and you are welcome to bask in what sunlight there be, as long as you wish."

 _"Thank you, Heir of Slytherin," he said, still using mind-speak, rather than tax Severus' knowledge of Parseltongue. "I should enjoy that very much, at least until the sun goes down. I cannot stay away from water too terribly long, but perhaps when you all retire for the evening meal, I shall return to my Chambers? Also, I realize it may be rather familiar and undignified, but if any of you would care to ride back with this young man on me, I should allow it this one time, in celebration of our victory. I suggest you do so, O Heir of Slytherin. It is only right."_

"Thank you, Mighty Serpent. I'd never have dared ask, but who could decline such a privilege?" So saying, Severus mounted.

 _Harry mind-spoke, "O Great One, I owe you my life, and I am most grateful. Let this Professor, the Heir of Slytherin accompany you back. I owe you much, and I shall go back on my broom with Professor Konstantyn. Thank you again," and so saying, he dismounted and bowed profoundly._

"You are welcome, young one. And I hope you will come visit me, with he who is as a father to you, from time to time."

"We shall be honored," Pavel assured him, as Harry summoned his broom from the shore of the Lake.

The entire contingent of faculty with brooms sailed above the Basilisk and Professor Snape, as they glided back into the Hogwarts grounds to the oo's, ah's, and gasps of all attending. Oxsana and her staff made sure the minions were all clearly marked for the spiders, as they blinked away, and Oxsana signaled Aragog that his children could begin their unique form of Easter Egg Hunt. The minions were barely husks now, anyway. Petrov had consumed them from the inside out for years.

John and Oxsana together levitated the "Statue" of Stoian Petrov up and out of the clearing, rising to 5,000 feet altitude, where the cold was bitter and the winds severe, before John used his Space arcana to grind the stone to the finest dust, and let the winds take it in four different directions. This Vampire would never return.

Back at the campus, Harry was belatedly announced to have won the Expert Steeple Chase Race, and earned 20 points for Gryffindor House. Draco's last maneuver had cost him 4 places, putting him 5th, which still earned Slytherin 5 points. When Harry landed, Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore were introducing the Basilisk and telling a foreshortened version of the story of his discovery. Almost everyone focused on them with rapt attention.

But then, the Malfoys arrived where Pavel, John, and Harry were standing.

"We have some unfinished business, Potter!" Draco hissed through gritted teeth. His father didn't look much happier.

"That's fine, Malfoy," and Harry felt a light squeeze by Pavel on his shoulder, as he looked up to see Pavel's eyes focused on the Headmaster, still speaking, but a slight smile on his lips as the very slightest shake of his head. "I'm sorry, I meant 'Mister' Malfoy. I must be a bit tired." As Pavel ever so slightly nodded, without changing his expression a lick. If you still have that space on your dance card, I'll be happy to duel you, as soon as Professor Snape and the Headmaster finish speaking."

"Is that..." Lucius wondered, "is that truly Salazar Slytherin's familiar? Is THAT the monster from the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Yes," Harry answered, "yes it is."

Lucius looked down his nose at Harry as though smelling something disagreeable, "I wasn't addressing YOU, boy. I was asking an adult who might know something."

At which Pavel turned and narrowed his eyes at Malfoy, saying, "Mr. Potter is quite right. And he has made a strong friendship with this Noble Wyrm already. In fact, they have spoken together more than anyone. I suggest if you have questions, you address them to Mr. Potter, here," and Pavel turned his glance back towards the speakers.

"Did you have any other questions, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry asked, in his very best "butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth" tone of humility and innocence.

This was more than Lucius could stand, as he simply turned on his heel and marched away, dragging Draco in his wake.

"Thank you," Harry snickered in an undertone to Pavel.

"Well played, Harry. Well played. Humility can be a powerful weapon against the arrogant," Pavel replied, never turning his head.

* * *

Harry wandered to the food tables and had the first snacks he'd had all day, as Ron and Hermione caught up with him.

"That was awesome!", "Yes, incredible, Harry!" they blurted at him.

He was surprised, as they'd not been allowed to come, despite their best efforts to persuade the grownups. "How do you know? Oh... please don't tell me you sneaked..."

"No no no," Hermione laughed. "Though I'm not sure if they weren't afraid we might. Professor Konstantyn kept us in the loop, and let us see everything through his eyes as it happened. It was like we were right there."We're so proud of you. What a relief to know that _thing_ can never bother you again!"

"Yes, indeed. And it will be nice to be able to walk around the Castle again without a keeper every time!" Harry nodded, taking a big glug of a butterbeer with his sandwich.

"That's for sure!" Ron agreed. "So what now, we about done for the day?"

"I've got just one more thing on my plate. And this one is sheer pleasure, not duty," as he looked over and saw Pavel talking to Professor Snape, and taking leave of the Basilisk. Pavel saw Harry looking his way, and walked over to join him.

"Harry, may I have a moment of your time?" Pavel asked, as Ron and Hermione took the hint and began to make themselves scarce. "Don't go far, kids, this won't take very long." They nodded as he and Harry walked a little way towards the Lake. "You won't want to hear this, but it is information you would want to have." Harry tried to steel himself for bad news. "You risked your life out of your compassion for a Basilisk you didn't know. Most of the time if you get in trouble at all, it's to help someone. Now, how much compassion do you have for Draco Malfoy?"

"What?! What are you talking about?"

"Harry, I have every confidence in the world that you're about to step into that dueling lane and make Draco look like the arrogant little brat that we know him to be. Right?"

"You bet!"

"Well, you need to know that he's been raised that way, by an arrogant father who has no idea how to train or discipline his son. But he does know how to punish him. He vents his anger, particularly for any perceived 'slight to their family honor' with generally one, fairly standard, penalty. The reason Professor Snape caned him three strokes with a junior school cane for cheating was that had he been sent home with that report, Lucius Malfoy would have caned him 10 strokes with his walking stick.

"This afternoon, you succeeded in freeing Dobby, who knocked Lucius Malfoy into the dirt, humiliating him in front of dozens of witches and wizards who know him."

"I didn't do that, Dobby did!"

"I know that, but he blames you for it."

"Then, you bested his son in a race he was determined to win, and he feels humiliated by it, and is now angry at Draco as well as you. That's why Draco showed so much bile, back there just now. Add to that, you uncovered his plot with the Book and returned it scornfully to him, in front of witnesses. And then top it off with converting his precious Basilisk, his plot to kill you, into an ally that protects you instead. You seeing a pattern here?"

"Yes..." Harry answered, cautiously.

"Harry, if you duel Draco right now, and you beat him, in front of all these people, in front of his father, and in front of all these people that KNOW him and his father, Draco will receive a severe beating... at least 10 strokes with his walking stick... at Lucius' first opportunity. The man has been humiliated by you, and he is counting on his son to redeem some of that in this duel. If Draco fails, he will be beaten without a doubt."

"So... what are you suggesting? That I NOT duel Draco? That I back out of the match?"

"No, not at all. I don't think that would help. And I'm not 'suggesting' anything. I'm just making you aware of some relevant facts. I believe the only way Draco comes out of this whole, is if he defeats you in a duel strongly enough to gain his father's admiration. And I mean it when I say I'm not suggesting what you should do. That's entirely up to you. Neither I, nor anyone else, could fault you to go out there, do your best, and win. Even if that earns Draco a thrashing. He's had them before, he'll have them again, and Merlin knows he's treated you badly enough long enough to have earned this one, if you decide that. I'm truly, literally, just giving you information. You do whatever you want to do." With that he walked away, returning to get some food himself - for he'd eaten nothing either - and nodded that the children could rejoin Harry.

Harry didn't look happy. They got to him just in time to hear him say, "Well, damn."

Fifteen minutes later, or so, the crowd was thinning as parents headed home and tired students headed towards the Castle, but word had gotten round that Draco and Harry were going to duel, and that drew quite an audience of its own. An Australian wizard served as referee, so no one could claim any bias. There was little trash talk as the boys came to the center, saluted, turned back to back, and paced off their five steps.

They turned, Harry taking his crouching shielded posture, and Draco using the _en garde_ position.

Draco fired first, using _"Serpensortia!"_ right from the gate.

Harry blocked with _"Protego!"_ , bouncing the poor snake up into the air, where the referee banished it instantly.

Harry responded with _"Expelliarmus!"_ , but used so little passion and aimed so poorly, Draco's wand barely wobbled.

Draco countered with _"Impedimenta!"_ , and while Harry wandlessly blocked it effectively, he let his motion slow down and grow sluggish.

Harry threw a Jellylegs Curse, whispering _"Locomotor Wibbley!"_ , with enough clarity and oomph to actually make Draco a bit less steady on his feet.

Finally Draco gathered up his verve, and yelled _"Immobilis!"_ at Harry, petrifying him, and knocking him over.

Draco fist-pumped in sheer joy - and probably some relief - as he walked over to Harry and said something inaudible and rude to him, there on the mat... before turning his back and marching off in triumph.

The referee came over, and cast _"Finite Incantatem!"_ , freeing Harry up and letting him walk off the lane.

Draco ran over to his father to receive a hearty pat on the back, as Lucius turned to Harry to sneer... "Let that be a lesson to you, boy! Don't go challenging your betters!"

Harry hid his clenched fists as he reattached his cloak, and said in an humble tone, "I'll try to bear that in mind, sir."

"Well see that you do!" was Lucius' parting shot as the two Malfoys strutted off in satisfaction.

Ron was just drawing breath to make some wholly appropriate, but unacceptable response, when Harry spotted it, laughed and spun Ron around pushing him into the opposite direction.

Pavel was on his way to join them, when his hearing picked up the odd sound... of coins clinking. Too many coins... too much clinking. Looking in the direction of the sound, he saw the Twins in the midst of a small cluster of students, and it appeared they were taking up a collection for something. Curiosity got the better of him, as he focused his hearing and realized... they were collecting their winnings, having wagered against Harry in the duel. Considering past performance, they had posted very attractive odds, and apparently suckered every student who didn't know them well enough, into a bet. Slowly and stealthily he approached behind them, until finally, seeing the nervous expressions on the small faces before them, they turned around and looked.

Gently, he reached out between them and took one ear in each hand. "Give it back, gentlemen."

"But, Professor, we just..."

Pavel tweaked the ears a touch. "I don't like repeating instructions, gentlemen. Do you really need me to?"

"No, sir," they chorused in unison. As sadly they began giving back the money.

"All of it..." Pavel raised his voice, "has anyone walked away here, that are owed their money back? There will be no gambling on this lawn. Now, come get your money if you gave it to Fred or George just now."

A few timid students looked their way.

"No no, you're not in trouble. They are," he laughed. "Come get your money back, please."

By this time, Ron, Hermione, and Harry had noticed the activity, and drawn close enough to hear the proceedings. After that, they followed along, gleefully.

And Fred and George continued to pay out, ears in Professor Konstantyn's fingers, until no further students came forward. "Is that all of it?"

The Twins checked their pockets, "Yes, sir. That's it."

"All right." Pavel looked around until he spotted Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape talking to one another, as they were taking leave of the Basilisk. He was preparing to return to his chamber. Without the slightest hesitation or embarrassment, Pavel walked the boys, still held gently by the ears - unless they struggled - over to Professor McGonagall, and waited politely to be recognized. The Twins were red-faced with embarrassment. They were also totally awed to be standing a couple feet away from the Basilisk. He cast a translation charm so that the Noble Serpent could converse if he chose.

"Professor Konstantyn, how good to see you, sir. What have we here?" Minerva asked in her most cordial and innocent voice.

"I believe, Professor, that we have some volunteers to help with your project Monday. I caught these two young men collecting on wagers of the duel. They had given long odds against Harry, and... despite being Gryffindors themselves, were making book AGAINST their Gryffindor champion. Now why in the world would they do that, I wonder, considering that they've seen Harry best Draco many times? Hmmm?" Pavel tilted his head slightly, reflecting his suspicious nature, as he released their ears.

"Aye, that seems a most reasonable question. Mr. Weasley's? What have ye to say for yerselves?"

"We overheard Harry talking to Ron and Hermione, saying as how he was going to let Draco win, or else his father would cane him when he got him home. We knew Harry never loses to Draco, so it seemed like... well, easy money."

"I see," Professor McGonagall nodded, "So you eavesdrop on a private conversation, that reveals a kindly and charitable act by a housemate to keep an adversary from taking an abusive beating, and rather than learn by the example, you exploit the information to fleece students who don't have your 'insider knowledge'?"

The Twins brows knitted in a remorseful expression, "Well, Professor, I don't think that's exactly what we did. At least it didn't seem like that at the time. It just seemed like, well, a bit of a windfall," George said.

"A moment of good fortune," Fred said.

"Serendipity," George said.

"Fate smiling upon us," Fred said.

"ENOUGH!" Minerva laughed as she raised her hand. "That's enough of that. Well, noo... you'll bring yer serendipitous selves to my office after class Monday, and join the rest of Harry's scoundrels doing a wee bit o' cleaning for me. I'm sure they'll tell you all about it, when you tell them what you did and apologize for it."

"Oh, Professor! Really?" Fred asked.

"Apologize?" George asked.

"To Harry, Ron and Hermione?" Fred asked.

"We'll never hear the end of it!" George said.

"I said that's enough, noo!" Minerva chuckled again. "Yer Gryffindors and you should know better. Besides which, there's no gambling allowed on school activities."

Fred muttered, "It's not gambling when you know the outcome."

"Pardon?" Pavel volunteered.

"Nothing, sir," George answered.

"It's unfortunate that you find yourself in Gryffindor with such a plot. I suspect were you Slytherin, you may have had house points awarded," Pavel commented.

"True indeed," Severus picked up, without missing a beat. "What say you, Noble One?"

The Twins were astonished to hear laughter from a 20 meter deadly snake, and the words, "Indeed. I should think such cleverness and cunning should be rewarded... Well, except for the 'getting caught' part, anyway."

"Ah yes, there is that... tsk, tsk, tsk," Severus said, in mock sympathy.

"I believe you are excused, gentlemen," Pavel chuckled. "And you'll find the objects of your apology about 10 meters behind us, near that blue booth there, if I don't miss my guess."

"Yes, sir. Excuse us, professors... Sir," they bowed to the Basilisk.

"Yessssss..." the Noble One entoned, "I am very very pleased with what I see of the students, and faculty, of Hogwarts. The Founders would be proud, I assure you. Good night, all!" and he glided away into the Black Lake, as they all headed up to the Castle after a perfect, and perfectly exhausting, day.

* * *

Supper at the Great Hall was far more a social event this evening, than a meal. Students had eaten their way through what seemed like tons of food, as the elves kept the tables stocked right up until 4 p.m. At the same time, students were thrilled to share their stories, their treasures and prizes, and relive the adventures they'd had throughout the day.

At the Head Table, Professor McGonagall tinged her water goblet to let the Headmaster announce the various category winners and house point totals awarded, all to great applause and cheering, and also to announce that the special rules restricting movement through the Castle were now lifted, and normal hours and rules were in effect... also greeted by great applause and cheering.

Harry was sitting in his accustomed place at the Gryffindor table, when Draco Malfoy walked over to him and asked if he could have a word. Harry was shocked at first, then suspicious, but as Draco's face didn't display anything but fatigue, he decided he may as well go ahead.

Pavel saw the exchange, as did Severus, and both of them raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

The two of them headed out the front door of the Great Hall to speak in the corridor.

Draco said, "Potter, I think your a git."

"Yeah, and I think you're an arrogant prat. What of it?"

"I need to ask you something. When we fought today, were you feeling ok? Were you sick, or exhausted or something?"

"No, Malfoy, I was feeling fine," Harry laughed. "Why?"

"Because that fight was all wrong, and it's bothering me. I can beat you. I KNOW I can beat you, and one day I'll show you that. But this wasn't the day. You didn't fight worth a damn, the whole time. I want to know why. You let me win that fight, and I need to know why."

Harry glanced away before looking back to Draco.

"Listen, just let it go, OK? I don't want to talk about it."

Draco scowled. "No, I need to know. So tell me."

Harry sighed before answering in a low voice. "OK, I don't want to talk about my muggle family, but I had kind of a tough time of it. Today, I saw how mad your dad was. I knew I'd ticked him off big time all day. And I could see that he really NEEDED you to win that fight. That it might not be ok for you if you didn't. I know what it's like for a grownup to take out their anger on a kid... just because they can. That sucks, and I won't be part of it. And I wouldn't be part of it today. So... just forget about it already, OK?"

"OK. Sorry I asked. That's fine. We'll never mention it again, K?"

"K."

"Oh, and Potter?"

"Yeah?"

Draco stuck out his hand to shake, "That was really decent of you. Thanks."

Harry shook his hand and said, "Don't mention it."

And they headed back into the Great Hall, thinking one another slightly less git, and arrogant prat.


	51. Closure

**Closure**

Harry woke with a bit of a start, with a ripping headache that made him think his brain was burning. He cried out in his discomfort, bringing the Professor to his side in a heartbeat. He was up in his dorm at Gryffindor tower, and it was still the deep dark of early morning. Oxsana had spent her first night in her own rooms, since a 24 hour guard was no longer necessary.

"You waken early, my son. What troubles you?" Pavel asked gently.

"My head. My scar. It burns. My head hurts. What's wrong with me?" Harry grimaced, as he whispered his answer.

"I don't know," Pavel admitted. "Let's go home and see if we can find out." He picked Harry up in his arms and blinked to Harry's bed in his room at the apartment. _"Ivan?" Pavel mind-spoke to his son, "Please join us immediately in Harry's room at home here. I need some diagnostics."_

 _"Be right there, Papa," John answered in a sleepy voice, "Time?"_

 _"It's 3:30."_

"Heya, Squirt," John smiled down at Harry, tucked in his bed less than 60 seconds later. "Rough night?" John pulled up a chair alongside Harry as Pavel stood on the other side of the bed, with his hand comfortingly on the boy's forehead.

"Yeah," Harry grimaced. "I've got this terrible headache. My scar burns, and it feels like there's a band around my head pulling tighter and tighter. I was having a nightmare. It was about Voldemort, and he was so angry. Just raging and screaming. It was awful."

"It will be all right, Harry," Pavel assured him. "I just want Ivan to check you out before I do anything. I think we can fix this easily enough. Just give us a moment or two, ok? Can you handle the pain a little bit longer?"

"Sure," he smiled wanly. "I'm tough. Go ahead."

"Right then," Pavel smiled back, and nodded to Ivan.

John gently placed his hands on either side of Harry's face, and closed his eyes as his hands began to glow. He whispered to Harry, "I want Papa to come enter into your mind, but only if that's ok with you, Harry."

"Come ahead," Harry smiled. "I don't think I'm in trouble at the moment," as he looked over at Pavel. "You won't see anything I'm trying to hide... this time."

Pavel smiled back as he eased himself into Harry's mind and memories. He could see the nightmares, hear the screams, and feel the pain Harry was experiencing. As he said, it was like a burning tightening band around the crown of his head, but there was also intense burning at the lightning shaped scar under the boy's shaggy overhanging hair.

It left Pavel in no doubt at all, there was an intense sympathetic connection between Harry and Voldemort, focused at the scar.

 _John mind-spoke to his father, "I can relieve the pain and remove the pressure, but I wanted to be careful about that link with Voldemort. Can you reduce that or shield it off in some way, without alerting whoever or whatever is at the other end of it?"_

 _"Yes, I don't believe Voldemort is aware of the connection. It's just like a 'relief valve', taking high intensity thoughts or feelings, and flowing them through Harry's mind. I think this rage stems from him learning of Petrov's demise today. He held high hopes of acquiring Harry, or assuring his death through Petrov, and he's just learned of the failure. Give me a moment, and I'll seal Harry off from the input, then see how much discomfort is left to heal."_

 _"Right," John nodded, as he removed his hands to let Pavel work unimpeded._

Pavel said, "Harry, look at me and relax a moment," and he smiled, as Harry looked into his eyes and relaxed. Pavel hummed softly, smiling, as he stroked Harry's head, tracing a number of runes with his fingertips as he absorbed the entire history of Harry's contacts with Voldemort over the years. He discerned every tenor, timbre, and frequency of "bleedthrough" of Voldemort's thoughts or feelings, and put shielding wards on Harry to block them all. As he worked, he could see the lines of discomfort disappearing from Harry's face.

When he finished, Harry smiled up at him with an expression of great relief, "Wow, that feels much better already."

"Good, good," Pavel nodded, looking over at John saying, "OK, go ahead."

John put his hands back on either side of Harry's head, and let them glow a bit as he rotated them to enclose every angle. A moment later he slowly released Harry, asking, "How's that now, Squirt?"

"Terrific. Everything feels fine now. No headache, no burning, no nothing," Harry smiled and yawned.

"Good. Time to go back to sleep then?" John looked over at Pavel, and saw him nod his head.

Harry yawned again as he tried, probably more as a matter of form than sincere desire, "I'm not that sleepy anymore. Can't I stay up? Play or have breakfast?" *yawn*

"No," Pavel chuckled, as he softly refused.

"Well, what about maybe a story, Professor?" he implored, rolling on his side to cuddle his pillow.

"Not even a story, you scamp. You need to go back to sleep. But I'll sit here with you until you fall asleep if you like. Would that help you feel better?" Pavel offered.

"Um hmmm," Harry smiled as he nodded and closed his eyes.

Pavel tucked him up and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder as he wanded a chair into place, to sit and calm the boy until he was asleep. It took less than five minutes, as the two grownups retired to the fireplace, leaving Harry's door open in case he needed them. The two of them just sat silently for a few moments, staring at the fire and collecting their thoughts.

Suddenly, a tray with tea, biscuits, and danish appeared on the coffee table, accompanied by Dobby, dressed in white Tee shirt, Gryffindor tie, and Hogwarts jumper down to his knees. The night before, Wilfried, Pavel, and Albus had spoken with Dobby about his options as a free elf, to be paid or, if he preferred, to be bonded to the school. He chose to be paid, 1 galleon per month, which he vociferously dickered down from the 5 galleons originally offered, as he wanted to serve Harry Potter for life, and Harry would eventually graduate from Hogwarts. Pavel then, with Albus' blessing, took on the responsibility of hiring Dobby, to serve at Hogwarts or his home until Harry was able to bond for his services personally.

"I's is glad you's got to Master Harry! He was in great distress as he slept. I almost waked'ed yous. But you waked you selves. Good Masters!" Dobby nodded with approval as he patted Pavel's hand.

"Thank you, Dobby," Pavel kept a straight face, receiving this delightful house elf's praise. "You watch Harry, or watch out for Harry all the time, don't you?"

Dobby blushed a bit, but nodded, not sure if that was all right with these men or not. But he couldn't lie or hide anything from his new master.

Pavel smiled, understanding. "That's fine, Dobby. That is a good thing. Please don't hesitate to let us know if you ever think Harry needs us. Whether we're asleep, or busy, or anything, you can reach us and let us know if he is in need. All right?"

Dobby nodded rapidly with glee. "Thank you's, masters. Dobby will," and with that, he popped away.

John had poured tea for the both of them while Pavel spoke with Dobby. As he passed his father's cup to him, he said, "Papa, I think I may have good news, and bad news."

"Really? How so?" Pavel asked.

"Review my own memories of tonight. Here, look at my sleep..." and Pavel opened his mind to his father's examination.

It was, perhaps, the first time he'd ever seen such a thing, but Pavel watched the same memories of Voldemort's temper and rage at learning of Petrov's failure. It seemed the same rage, the same "broadcast" was experienced by Ivan, as had hit Harry. The pressure wasn't the same. The pain wasn't generated. Perhaps this was because there was no physical focus point, like the scar, to latch on to. But it was still disturbing to realize that Ivan was also affected by the moods of Voldemort.

Pavel was upset. He wasn't angry... it wasn't that anyone seemed to have done anything wrong. It was simply that he didn't know how this was happening. Did Voldemort have some sort of hook into Ivan, as well as Harry? Was Ivan so bonded with Harry that he was now sharing disturbing experiences? But he'd never known that to happen except with bonded couples, such as husband and wife. "Couvade" was the not uncommon phenomenon of men experiencing various uncomfortable aspects of pregnancy, when their wife was carrying a child.

"I see," Pavel said, non-commitally. "Theories? Do you think you're receiving this secondarily to Harry, or as a primary?"

"I'm not sure, Papa. But I have a thought. Look at me with Prime magesight, and tell me if you find a sympathetic connection to Voldemort, or to the Tom Riddle resonance you've experienced before. If you find it, don't mess with it, just tell me."

Sure enough, there it was. Nothing special, but for it being very dark in its nature. Ivan, of course, carried scores of sympathetic connections, as do we all, and seldom had Pavel ever sought out a specific one on another person. But it was even more upsetting to find, than discovering the echoing dreams. "Yes, Ivan. It's there. Not strong, not intrusive, just present. I'm not doing anything with or to it. Now, tell me what's going on."

"Well, Papa, as I said... I think we have a 'good news, bad news' situation here. The bad news is: I have a low grade sympathetic connection to Voldemort. The good news is: I have a low grade sympathetic connection to Voldemort, of which he is apparently unaware, and which gives me the same reaction as Harry's scar. Now, have you been able to insulate Harry from him?"

"Yes, I believe so. I'll need to check on it from time to time, perhaps renew or refresh it periodically. But that Prime shield should keep Harry from experiencing bleed through again, or the pain, and should protect him from giving any feedback that would alert Voldemort to his presence."

"Papa, I don't have to tell you how valuable it is, or could be, for me to have a clandestine sympathetic connection to Voldemort. I suspect it developed from my consumption of Tom Riddle. I purged all the interior darkness, but apparently missed that last tie. Please don't be concerned..."

"I'm going to try to forget you said such a foolish thing, my son. Of course, I'm 'concerned'. You're right, clearly, that there are tremendous advantages to its presence. But I can't help but wish it were present somewhere else, or on someone else, than you!"

"Considering this new development, we'd best rethink our future plans, eh?" Pavel mused as he continued to stare into the fire.

* * *

Harry wakened at 5:50, prepared to fuss at John for not letting him sleep. Instead, he found himself looking into the smiling face of Pavel, _who had quietly mind-spoken, "Good morning, my son," to him, to waylay any thoughtless complaints._ "Are you feeling well? Is everything all right now?" he continued, vocally.

"Yes, sir. I feel fine. Not even too tired, which is surprising," Harry replied, as he recalled how he got here.

"Very good! Ivan gave you some help with that as he treated your headache, so you should have had some very restful sleep between then and now. Now!" Pavel began, with energy as he stood up, "go wash and dress, and we'll have some breakfast before you meet the others and head off to Professor Snape."

Harry groaned. "You'd think after all that yesterday, we could be excused today," he whined a bit.

At this, Pavel laughed out loud saying, "All right, you've convinced me that you're fine and acting perfectly normal for a schoolboy your age. I'm relieved. BUT! I'll not pander to it either. Both Wilfried and Dobby have prepared treats for you this morning. If you aren't seated, dressed properly, at that table in 10 minutes, I'll have them take them back and save them for our elevenses instead!" as he stood, and began to leave, assured of Harry's well-being.

 _"Maaannn,"_ Harry laughed as he whined. "You're even meaner than John first thing in the morning!" as he jumped out of bed into his slippers, grabbing his robe.

"Ah, there's music to my ears. I feared I'd been turning 'warm and fuzzy' with all this good will around me!" was Pavel's parting shot as he left to drink some coffee. As Harry dashed out his bedroom door through the living room, he saw Pavel flick a finger and put a Tempus over the breakfast table, counting down from 10:00... 9:59... 9:58...

"That's not funny!" Harry called, dashing to the bathroom.

"Yes, it is," Pavel whispered, heading to the coffee pot.

* * *

Breakfast in the Great Hall was a bit quieter than usual. More than an average number of students chose to absent themselves to sleep in, no doubt. Ron, Hermione, and Harry had chosen to go change into weekend lounging clothes, rather than sticking out like sore thumbs in their school uniforms. Harry had a Quidditch practice scheduled at 1:00 p.m., but everything else was free for the day. Hermione and Ron normally went to watch, if the weather was nice. Today was a bit overcast and blustery, certainly colder than yesterday, but they'd go keep the team company anyhow, and then they'd all been invited to hang out at the Konstantyn home, after practice, to work on any schoolwork they had or play games. They'd been invited to dinner, sort of a celebration, with Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Headmaster Dumbledore at the Konstantyn's that evening, for which they'd been asked to dress neatly - though not in uniform.

The morning passed quietly and peacefully, as the children went to the library to make sure all their schoolwork was done and nothing would get in the way of their weekend recreation, and adults had the rare opportunity to just decompress. Harry found it a little odd not to be wearing Oxsana, who had joyfully become reacquainted with her bed, not to mention upright or seated postures in general.

Everyone intersected at the Great Hall for lunch before the children headed out to the Quidditch Pitch, and Pavel had asked the adults to come up for coffee after luncheon, so they could confer and do some planning.

As the children exited the Great Hall heading outside, John asked if he should go keep an eye on Harry, given the nature of his flying. Pavel assured him that absent anyone actively trying to kill him, Harry should be fine. In the event of an unforeseen emergency, he had great confidence that Dobby would notify them immediately. Dobby had apparently adopted Harry as "his person", and would always know if he were in trouble. Or... at least if he were in danger or hurt.

The grownups retired to the Konstantyn apartments and found a delightful tray of tea, coffee, and a variety of nibbles sitting on the coffee table waiting for them near the fire. Everyone found a comfortable seat, and Pavel explained why they were there.

He went over Harry's night... the headache, the nightmares, the burning of the scar. He explained what he and John had done to prevent a recurrence, but then described the situation with Ivan.

"Up to now, our plans had been to resolve the problem of Stoian Petrov, and then let Ivan and Oxsana return home to get back about their jobs and duties. I, of course, will remain here for as long as you'll have me, or until Harry graduates, whatever. But under these circumstances, I'm wondering if a change of plan may be in order. What would you think of seeing if Ivan and Oxsana could be reassigned, retasked, to the Voldemort case here in Great Britian?"

Albus replied thoughtfully, "That would be wonderful, Pavel. I've often thought that the International Council should pay more attention to Voldemort. After all, if he secures control over the magicians of the U.K., as he intends, there's no more chance that he would stop there than there was that Hitler would stop with Czechoslovakia. Clearly, Voldemort intends global domination, and there is plenty of evidence that he has been building his networks elsewhere already. This hiring of Petrov is proof of that."

"Agreed. Ivan and I discussed this a bit in the wee hours this morning, but what would you think of such an idea, Oxsana?" Pavel looked at his god daughter.

"I think it makes a great deal of sense, Papa Pavel. What role would you see me fulfilling here, though? I'm not qualified to teach anything at Hogwarts, and I really enjoy my job at home. Though I'd be delighted to be assigned here with you all. I feel a bit torn."

"I can understand that. I was wondering if Ivailo and the Ministry here could not arrange some sort of 'cultural exchange'? The Ministry of Magic does not have an office of 'Inquisitor', though they would certainly benefit from one. What if you could be attached to the Office of Aurors, coordinating with Alastor Moody or Kingsley Shacklebolt and assist them in investigation and interrogation, perhaps identifying or training any likely candidates for more advanced technical study of legilimens skills? As it is, you and your department are often called upon to provide technical specialist support for their department, along with several other countries. They look upon you as an expert already," Pavel proposed.

"It is certainly an idea with strong appeal, Papa Pavel. What of Ivan, then? Would he, too, become an Auror for the Ministry?" Oxsana asked.

"I think," John picked up the conversation, "that the ideal situation would be for me to take a position with the Department of Aurors, so that my authority would be recognized when needed, but I continue to teach here with Madame Hooch as a situation. If my principal assignment were simply the case of Voldemort and his associated organization... Death Eaters and the like... then Hogwarts would be the reasonable base for my operations. Add to that the importance of these horcruxes that we now have at least a starting point for... It's almost as if Voldemort's fixation were Hogwarts. Everything of importance to him seems to center on the school. I think Hogwarts and Harry will continue to be the epicenter for activity of Voldemort. If we are to find him, negate his efforts, and see to his destruction, this is the place from which to do it. That is, if you think I'd be of any use to Hogwarts, Headmaster..." John turned to Albus.

"I think you are a tremendous asset, my boy!" Albus replied heartily. "If I know you'll be with us for a spell, we'll adjust the curriculum to include some Physical Education, and perhaps you can build some dueling, wand combat, and other martial arts into the system for us."

John nodded, as Pavel said, "Well, if this seems like a good idea, I can have Ivailo join us for a conference tomorrow. Ivan? Oxsana? Are there people in your departments you can recommend to take your places?" They both nodded, without needing much time to reflect.

"I would certainly welcome this additional support in our battle against Voldemort," Severus nodded. "I, for one, would appreciate some studies with Pavel or Oxsana to strengthen my own skills in legilimancy or occlumency."

"Well, I thank you all for your time, ladies and gentlemen. Please enjoy your afternoons, and come join us for dinner at 6:00 or so. We shall look forward to a quiet, but joyful evening of well mannered frivolity, in recognition of a job well and safely done, by all," Pavel rose, and saluted all with his teacup and a bow. Minerva and Albus arose, to go attend to duties that always seemed to stack up on their desks, as Severus just continued to sit and enjoy the quiet companionship of the parlor. In a few minutes, Ivan and Oxsana stood up, excused themselves and headed for her apartment to have some private time to talk over these new developments.

* * *

Severus started to take this as his cue, and rose to leave, when Pavel suggested he sit a few more moments. "I'd like to speak with you about a matter in private," the old man opened with a friendly tone. Severus kept his peace, not sure whether this referred to his desire for more training in mind magic, or the detention of the children, or something entirely other. "I should like to discuss your godson, Draco."

This came as a complete surprise to Snape. "How so?" he looked puzzled.

"Last night, as I worked on Harry's headache, dreams, and memories, this memory also appeared," and Pavel showed Severus the exchange between Harry and Draco after supper last night. "That boy has it in him to be a decent wizard, and a good man. It is not his fault that he has a Death Eater for a father, or that his father is a bigoted snob."

"Granted, Paul. But there is very little I can do about that. I have to tread very carefully with Lucius, for he has Voldemort's ear. I'm sure Voldemort is in touch with him in some way, even though he's not yet shown himself to the rest of us, and there's been no acknowledged sighting of him since that business with the Sorcerer's Stone here last year."

"Question, Severus: What does 'godfather' mean to you in this culture? I'm not sure it's the same worldwide. What does it mean here?"

"Primarily it means that we take a familial interest in our godchild, and should anything happen to his father, I would be there for him as a role model, support, or other paternal figure as needed."

"All right. That's much the same as for me and Oxsana. Now, what if nothing has happened to his father, but he is simply not doing the job a father should do? Do you have any duty to your godson at that point? Is there no duty to see to him being raised properly, to be a respectful, responsible, resourceful young man?"

"One could argue that, of course, Paul. But how do you do that without offending Lucius? I can't tell him he doesn't know how to parent his own son. Let alone Narcissa! She's the worst of elitist doting mothers."

"Severus, Draco respects you. He fears his father, but he respects you. He seeks to satisfy his father, to keep on his good side. But he seeks to please you, to make you proud of and happy with him. Draco has far more concern for what you think of him as a young man, than anything in his relationship with his father. I have read his father very closely, when he became a threat to Harry. I know exactly what his father thinks of him and how his father relates to him. He is a trophy for his father, an avatar, and icon. He is Lucius' 'continuity into the next generation', a symbol of the Malfoy crest. Lucius has absolutely no understanding nor interest in the young man Draco is or will become. You... are entirely unlike that in every regard. Even the way you care for THESE children, who you protest are such a thorn in your side, belies any protestations you make that you do not care for your students' welfare and formation. I can only imagine how frustrated you are, because of how deeply you DO care about Draco."

"So what's your point, old man?" Severus almost spat in his frustration. "You tell me these things knowing I can't do a damn thing about them. You just want me to feel bad, or what?"

"Not at all, dear friend," Pavel replied with no sign of irritation or impatience, "I offer you a challenge. Why not change the situation? Just as I am doing here with Harry, and a few other students here and there. Hogwarts is in a different 'dimension' than these children's homes. What would happen if you talked, sincerely, with Draco... offered to be a full and functional godfather to him... and started to treat him as you would treat your own son? You already keep a number of things about Draco's school performance private from Lucius for the boy's protection. What if you just went on with that, training, caring for, raising Draco as you would if he were your own boy here at the school? You have full time access to him here, and I gather he even stays with you a portion of his summer holidays. He is Slytherin enough to 'talk the talk' when he is with Lucius not to display that he's developing true character on those rare occasions that he is with him.

"Severus, you once sat right here and wondered what your life would have been like if you'd grown up in a family like this, rather than the situation you had. For one thing, I doubt you'd have that mark on your arm. The way things are going right now, Draco will likely carry that mark when he is 16, and we shall be duty bound to destroy him. Wouldn't it be worth the time and trouble for you to give Draco the family and guidance that he needs right now, that he not have to repeat your mistakes to learn what you have already come to know? You can make that difference for him. You can provide him with the father he needs, even as he endures the father he has.

"I'm not asking you to do it, or say anything right now. I just wanted to offer the idea to you. If you decide this is something you want to do, then please know that Ivan and I will give you all the support in our power. Our family can well ally with your family here at Hogwarts, if you decide to embrace Draco as family."

Severus chuckled, "Have you discussed that with Harry, Paul? I'm not so sure these 'cousins' wouldn't kill one another given the chance."

Pavel laughed, "Agreed. But should you decide to go this way, this will be a growth and learning experience for him, too. I think there's the possibility of a very strong friendship between those two, once they get on the same music. But it would certainly be a 'work in progress' for a while..." Pavel paused, reflecting for a moment. "But anyway, as I say, I'm not seeking any commitment or answer here. Just think about it, and see if the idea appeals to you. We're here to help if you should decide so."

And Pavel just stretched out a bit more comfortably in his chair, summoned a book of poetry, and poured some more tea as he settled in to relax before the fire. Severus just poured more tea and also just relaxed in the companionable silence.

* * *

 _Just before the children came back, John mind-spoke to Pavel, "Papa, it is Saturday, is it not?"_

 _Pavel put down his book a moment, "It is. Yes."_

 _"Do we have some unfinished business?"_

 _"I believe we do. Don't you?"_

 _John mentally sighed, "Yes, sir. I know that was wrong. I just didn't want to go through the discussion."_

 _"Well, then?"_

 _"Four o'clock suit you? Then some chess?" John laughed._

 _"Fine by me. I'll see my little man then," Pavel smiled, as he returned to his poetry._

Severus by now had explored the shelves, selected a book of interest, and was thoroughly enjoying a relaxed 'family afternoon' by the fire, as he'd never before known. The morning detentions were giving him more than enough time to keep up with grading his papers and administrative tasks, and for once his Saturday agenda was completely clear.

The children came bustling in a few minutes past three, and Pavel knew better than to try any further quiet reading in the parlor unless he banished the children to Harry's room. But this was fine by him. John and Oxsana came out to join the family, as Pavel expected to be recruited into one or another game immediately. Instead, he was surprised as Harry walked over to his Study door.

"Professor Konstantyn, do you have a moment? I'd like to talk with you about something."

"Certainly," Pavel answered, surprised, but curious. He walked into the Study behind Harry and closed the door. They talked for about fifteen minutes, and came back out in seemingly good moods. Ron challenged the Professor to a game of chess, while Hermione watched and Harry excused himself to go shower and change. John excused himself to go to his room for a moment, and when he returned he was again in 12 year old form, polo shirt, jeans, and trainers.

"That is SUCH a good look for you, Ivan!" Oxsana enthused. "I like it!"

"I must say, John," Snape laughed, "I agree. I can just SO see you stuck in my Potions classes."

"I can tell you, Professor," John reverted to using adult titles, "you can't have been worse than the Potions Master I had, that's for sure."

"Ivan, do we really want to go there again?"

"Papa, the man is long gone by now. And there's no way I can offend him after all these years!"

"Nonetheless, what example are you setting here and now, hmmm?"

At which John turned, and rolled his eyes... but only where Pavel could not see, though Snape and Oxsana still did, and laughed.

"Professor Snape," Pavel asked, "Have you heard of a game called 'Cluedo', or do you enjoy chess?"

"Yes, to both, and I'll be glad to play either, if there's an offer hidden under that question."

"AHA! Yes, I knew it!" Pavel laughed in delight. "Vell, after supper I challenge you and anyone else willing, to a game of Cluedo. I have strongly wanted to play you. I suspect your logic to be impeccable. Before supper I expect we shall play some chess, unless the children choose to play something in their room."

"Chess will be fine, sir... unless you're willing to make us chipmunks again. That was really fun!" Hermione giggled.

"We shall see! For now, who would like chess, and who wants to play whom?" as chessboards came out and opponents got sorted. Ron chose to challenge Professor Snape. Harry played Oxsana. Ivan played against his father. _As Pavel and Ivan played, he mind-spoke to his son, "Ivan? Harry will be joining us at four o'clock."_

 _"Really?! I'd never have thought. That's wonderful."_

 _"So it is all right with you to 'share the experience'?"_

 _"Oh, yes. I think it will help Harry a lot that it's the both of us this first time."_

 _"I thought so too, but he's just asked me so this is my first chance to check with you."_

 _"Excellent, Papa. We could not have planned this better. I don't suppose, in the interests of not scaring the lad, that you might choose to go a bit lighter on..."_

 _"Not a chance, my boy. Not a chance."_

 _"Ah well, can't fault me for trying, anyway..." as John managed to mind speak a heavy sigh._

As four o'clock approached, Pavel and John finished their game and waited as Oxsana checkmated Harry. The Tempus above the fireplace showed four on the dot as the three of them rose and Pavel excused himself and the boys, to deal with what he called some "unfinished business", saying they would not be long as they headed into Harry's bedroom.

Twenty minutes later or so, Pavel came out, and said the boys would rejoin them shortly. He sat on the floor near the fireplace on a very warm and comfortable faux fur rug, as he set up two chessboards. A couple minutes later the boys came to them from the bathroom down the hall, where John had apparently portaled them to clean up a bit. They each took a chessboard, as they lay down comfortably on the warm hearthrug to play Pavel. There was a clear atmosphere of 'don't ask, don't tell' to their freshly washed faces, slightly reddened eyes, and flushed cheeks. After a couple of games, Oxsana challenged Ivan and Ron challenged Harry, also moving down to the rug, leaving Pavel free to play Professor Snape.

Tea was served at five o'clock, with a good time had by all. Just before six, John excused himself back to his room for a moment, and emerged again as his adult self, in casual dinner clothes appropriate to his age and status. By the time their dinner guests arrived, a sumptuous feast was served at the table, Severus seated Minerva, John seated Oxsana, and Ron seated Hermione. Just before sitting down, John threw a cushioning charm on Harry's chair, getting a quick glance of gratitude in return.

Before serving, Pavel stood, raised his wineglass, as the children raised their juice, and said, "A Toast: In gratitude to all the people here that we know and have come to love, I toast Hogwarts, her faculty, her students, and all at this table... to Family! Thank you all for being a part of my life, and making all of us a part of yours! To further adventures in the rest of this semester!"

"Cheers!" was chorused all around the table, as glasses clinked merrily and beverages sipped or quaffed.

 _In a very small, but very satisfied voice, Harry mind-spoke, "Thank you, Papa."_

And Pavel smiled back.

* * *

 _ **A/N** Well, there it is. I'm going to mark this story "Complete" because it is finished for the moment. There will be a brief Epilogue in a little bit, but it will not add anything further to plot, just a bit of end fluff. I hope you have enjoyed this. There will be a sequel, I hope soon, dealing with... among other things, Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Gilderoy Lockhart, and a bit more with Dobby. Let me know what you have thought, or any ideas you may have. Until then, Grace to you - Mort_


	52. Epilogue - Good Morning M'Lud

**Epilogue**

"Dunderhead! _._.. Dimwit!... Dolt!... Donkey!... Dullard!... _Dummkopf!_... Imbecile!... Idiot!... Buffoon!... Clod!... Lamebrain! _... Tölpel!... Esel!... Pukhnastyy!... Motte!._.. Cretin!..." Pavel ranted, as he entered his quarters.

"Papa?" John called out through Oxsana's apartment door. Pavel continued.

"How does Britain even FUNCTION under such a so-called 'leader'?" Pavel rhetorically inquired, still with his voice at full parade ground volume, pacing the parlor floor, arms wildly gesticulating as though a bird navigating a stiff headwind.

"Papa! Stop!" John commanded, entering the room trying to calm his clearly enraged father.

"I'm telling you, Ivan," as Pavel swiveled to face his son, "That idiot has his head so far _na yoho dupa_ , he could be his own proctologist!"

"Pavel Mykhailo Konstantyn! Be SILENT!" Ivan shouted, engaging his own irresistible command voice, finally focusing Pavel's attention.

Thus interrupted, Pavel finally regained a modicum of composure as he closed his eyes and his fists for a moment simply to breathe, then opened them again to see Ron, Hermione, and Harry staring at him wide-eyed from the doorway of Harry's bedroom.

Realizing for the first time that they were there and had witnessed this entire display, Pavel laughed at himself as his head dropped in defeat, and muttered, _"Scheisse!"_

"PAPA!" John exclaimed in what was only half-mocking shock, "That's ENOUGH!" He laughed, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but... That tore it. Corner, 10 minutes! Or, in deference to your dignity and rank, your room, until you can rejoin this family in an acceptable manner. Your choice!"

"My Study?" Pavel looked up hopefully, with a wry grin.

"No, sir. That would be a reward. This... is not," John slowly but firmly shook his head, with that same quiet determination Harry remembered from seeing Master Constantine deal with recalcitrant students.

"Yes, sir. Vell, my tantrum was public, not private, so should be its consequence," and Pavel headed calmly to occupy what had thus far been thought of primarily as "Ron's corner".

"Wait a minute!" Harry interjected, as he and the other children dashed to Pavel, putting their arms around his waist hugging him. He whispered to Pavel, "I don't know who you're talking about, Papa. But tell us who they are, and we'll take care of it for you!"

Pavel hugged them all back, laughing, and told them things were fine, that they should go back to play. He'd be with them shortly. John ignored this "irregularity" of normal "corner protocol", as he tried to keep from laughing at the entire situation. He could, of course, have mind-spoken all the mystery from this... but felt his father needed the "cooling off time", and it really was not a bad thing for the children to see and realize that mutual accountability worked not only downhill, but all the way to the top.

As Pavel made his way to his corner and the Tempus countdown began over the fireplace, the children exchanged a quick mutual look, then decided to take corners themselves.

"No, no, no..." John corrected. "This is not a matter of Solidarity. This is not a mutual action of misbehavior in which you all share responsibility. Come out of those corners. Papa is there because of failure to discipline his words and temper. You can wait for him, he will be with you shortly."

The children did not move.

"Children? Come out of those corners, please," John injected a degree of authority into his voice, making clear this was an order, not just random conversation.

They obeyed, approaching John with serious looks, as Harry said, "So, you want us to go spend this time wherever we want, doing whatever we want, right?"

"Yessss..." John responded cautiously... "Unless!" he interrupted himself as they'd all turned back towards the corners they'd just vacated... "Unless you're going to say you want to go stand in corners. That is PAPA's consequence for using unacceptable language! Not yours!"

"Well, John," Harry turned to him, "I don't know what's pissed Papa off, but..."

"ENOUGH!" John laughed, "I yield!" he turned to Ron and Hermione, "Don't cuss to qualify! Go ahead! The timer will chime when you're finished!" And the children all walked to corners, as Pavel closed his eyes trying not to laugh. "One snicker from you, sir, and I'm adding time," John promised his father. Pavel nodded in silence, smile still on his lips.

* * *

At dinner, joined by Albus, Minerva, and Severus, the "corner time" episode was not discussed. Nonetheless, it cast enough of a shadow implying repressed laughter that Minerva knew something was up. John tried to avoid catching either Pavel or Harry's eye, and the whole Konstantyn contingent seemed uncharacteristically quiet. No one yet knew what had so irritated Pavel, though John knew the surface reason. Nonetheless, he knew there was something deeper than the simple observation that Cornelius Fudge was a horse's _dupa._ He still didn't know why that fact had so angered his father. After all, they'd dealt with politicians before this... frequently.

After a couple half-hearted attempts at innocent table conversation, Professor McGonagall finally had laughingly had enough, "All right. I don't know who let the elephant into this room, but what is it? What is going on here?"

Laughing out loud, Pavel playfully tossed his napkin aside and stood up, turning to the children to say, "I owe an apology to some people sitting here. Children, I am very sorry that I lost my temper earlier, and you heard me express feelings that were quite inappropriate to your ears. Please forgive me," and he bowed to Ron, Hermione, and Harry.

The children acknowledged his apology in a combination of humor and shock, since they'd seldom been apologized to by any adult, let alone one of his stature. This prompted Harry to stand, look at Minerva, Severus and Oxsana to say, "Well, I owe you an apology as well, though I know this is being dealt with as my 'official Head of House' tomorrow... still, as we sit here in a collaboration team, I should heed your instructions better than I did the other day. I'm sorry, I apologize.

"That goes for me, too," Hermione rose, "I apologize."

"Me, too, I'm sorry," Ron joined in. "We'll get better at listening, I swear!"

"Oh, heck!" John laughed, as he flung his napkin down on the table, "Since this is some sort of 'group participation exercise'... I know I scared everyone here to death the other night with my Riddle stunt. I'm sorry I did that the way I did, and I apologize for any anxiety I caused," at which point he extended his hand, palm down, to Minerva... who laughed and gave it a stinging swat. "Sorry, Auntie," he looked down with a blush. "And you, too, Sev. Thanks for healing me up, and Uncle Albus for pulling us out of there."

"So, Papa," he turned and directed the children's gaze to follow his, "is our 'family correction' now successfully completed?'

Pavel laughed as he said, "I think those apologies were very apt, and bring closure to the issue. The question always remains the same. Given the same circumstances, would you behave properly, or as you did?"

Down the line came, "I'll go home when ordered."

"Yes, sir, me too."

"I'll not disobey."

And from John, "I'll not sneak off when I must loose the Beast ever again."

"Very well then, all of you are finished as to family corrections. Please take your seats... Now, Ivan, is MY correction satisfactorily finished?"

"I'm really not sure, Papa. For speaking out of turn, certainly. But for the attitude that prompted it? I'm not so sure," he laughed.

"Thank you, Ivan. I'll take what I can get. And I confess without shame, my attitude is still in need of some work. But I shall endeavor to maintain my composure, nonetheless."

"What vexes you so, Paul?" Minerva asked.

"Let us, for now, enjoy this excellent repast, and save that discussion for coffee after dinner. I'd not spoil my appetite right now," Pavel suggested, tucking back in to his sauerbraten and potato dumplings.

"Well, I must say," Albus chuckled, "this is a most extraordinary family. Is a Sunday evening 'congregate apology' a typical custom for your house, Pavel?"

John laughed as Pavel answered, "Well, yes and no, Albus. I wouldn't say it is a 'typical custom', no. But now and again, especially in a busy week, or when there's been some friction, dinner conversation can stall as it did here tonight. Too many words left unsaid, sort of thing. When we sense that kind of tension, and cannot be ourselves around one another, especially at Sunday Dinner, which was always my favorite meal of the week, then it was not unusual at all for someone to break the log jam, especially if all that was required was an apology or an admission of some simple fault. It just seems so much easier than trying to walk around on eggshells. It clears the air, so to speak."

"What a wonderful custom!" Albus admired. "I shall need to remember this. So, now with some clarified air, who has a topic to propose for discussion?"

"I may have a matter of some mutual interest," Severus volunteered, as all looked his way. "I stopped by to see our Noble Serpent this afternoon for a while, to ask how we could best coordinate and make use of his presence for the school now and in the future. I was unsure whether as 'Heir of Slytherin' for the nonce, I had any duties or responsibilities to address, or how I could make his stay more pleasant.

"He informed me of three fascinating things. One, he knew the Founders very well indeed, and of course Salazar Slytherin intimately. He would be delighted, should we ever offer an elective course, or a colloquium on them, or on the History of Hogwarts, to teach or collaborate in the teaching. Two, he would love to get to know students and faculty, and if Professor Konstantyn can provide a permanent solution to the language issue, he would be happy to set up something like 'visiting hours' or 'office hours' to receive visitors with or without appointment. But you won't believe the third thing he told me..."

And with infuriating humor, Severus cut a substantial chunk of his roast beef and took a healthy bite, effectively damming the flow of information.

After a more than adequate period for effective mastication, while everyone tried patiently to wait, Pavel spoke with a quiet edge to his voice... "Severus, m'lad... our patience is substantial, but not quite eternal. Pray, complete your thought."

Mischievously, Snape toyed with a second forkful of dinner, prompting John to say, "Don't even think about it, O _Magistri Alchimia!"_

"What?" Snape said, looking up with an expression of innocence, "Oh... the third thing?"

As everyone silently stared daggers at him, and said nothing.

"He mentioned that Salazar Slytherin's private study, office, and library are down there, untouched since he left it last," he spoke in a casual tone. "Apparently, Heirs of Slytherin have attempted to open it since his death, but none have yet succeeded. I thought that might be something of interest here." He put another bite of dinner in his mouth, looking amazingly like the cat who swallowed the canary.

"Oh, my..." Minerva was the first to find her voice.

* * *

Coffee, tea, cocoa, and pudding was served at the fireplace. The children reclined on warm furry rugs, while the adults lounged in comfortable armchairs, making the room look as if set up for 'storytime'.

"In the interests of both brevity and my continued civility... Albus? Perhaps you can summarize our meeting this morning." Pavel chuckled, as he poured some coffee for himself.

"My pleasure, sir. Well, it was a very productive and successful meeting. John is now officially an Auror/Investigator with the Ministry Department of Magical Law Enforcement, under the supervision of his liaison Auror Alastor Moody, with a secondary backup of Kingsley Shackleford. I can't wait to see how he and Alastor work out that partnership."

"Pfft!" was all John said.

"Oxsana has indeed been appointed High Inquisitor/Investigator for the Department as well. She will not only function in that role with the Department, but also identify candidates for further training and help them develop more sophisticated techniques for interrogation than simply intimidation, legilimens, and verituserum. Her skills as an accomplished Mind Mage, and understanding of the layers of human consciousness should help expand their capacities considerably.

"Further, Pavel's credentials as Inquisitor and Auror have been renewed and endorsed for jurisdiction here. All in all then, the meeting granted all the points we wanted to see, as the brief under consideration is to be Voldemort and related issues, not just general assignments and routine lawlessness." Albus poured and sipped some tea.

"None of which, Uncle Albus, explains why Papa is so disturbed this afternoon. What went on after Oxsana and I were dismissed?" John asked.

"Ah, that..." Albus sighed.

Pavel rose, saying, "If you would all excuse me for just a little bit, I feel a need for fresh air. I just want to walk off our delightful dinner for a little while, but I shall return shortly."

Harry looked at him with a face filled with concern. He didn't know what was upsetting Pavel so, and it worried him.

Pavel saw the look, walked over to Harry and tousled his hair. "Everything is all right, Harry. I struggle with my temper sometimes, and this is one of those times. Everything is fine. Everything will BE fine, and there's nothing to be worried about. I'll be right back, I promise." And Harry looked a bit more relaxed as Pavel walked into his Study and jumped out the window.

Albus continued, "Pavel does not suffer fools gladly, and was a bit surprised when the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, showed up about 45 minutes into our discussions, which was fine, as his signature is helpful in formalizing our treaty and agreement. However, the Minister has an astonishing capacity to deny anything he really doesn't want to be true. Such as, the existence of Voldemort. He was perfectly happy to see Pavel, John, and Oxsana become assets and resources for the Ministry, but maintains that there is no Voldemort, no issue of Death Eaters, no ongoing Dark Lord political concerns."

"Granted all of that, Uncle Albus. But we deal with such political animals all the time in our line of work. Why has this bothered him so?" John inquired.

"Well, because THIS time, our politician came with an agenda... he wanted a service in return for his agreement to all this. He wanted your father to return to the Bench. He's looking to 'hedge his bets' just in case there IS any ongoing 'Dark Lord' problem, and messiness dealing with Death Eaters who may be very well connected politically. Making your father a magistrate for the Ministry, rather than dealing with 'awkward' cases before the political Wizengemot, which Fudge has to preside over, would give him an excellent 'dumping ground' for disposal. Especially if he has jurisdiction, authority, over said magistrate. He thought he had a neat little 'hidden pocket' where he could hide inconveniences."

"Seriously?" John looked at him with upraised eyebrows. "Hasn't he ever MET Papa before? Like THAT's going to happen!"

"Well, of course Fudge had met Pavel before, but only in passing or at conferences and such. He knows him more by reputation: as an historian, as an Inquisitor, as a Jurist. But you know as well as I, most of what your father does isn't known or understood by anyone without a need to know. Frankly, Fudge has never really needed to know."

"So how did they come to agreement?" John persisted.

"Ivailo is a man of many talents, and many connections. Ivailo made up the contract/treaty covering Pavel's service as a judge for the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain, but Fudge failed to read all the fine print when he signed. Your father did not. Your father is satisfied, but not the least bit happy.

John just closed his eyes, refusing to prompt Albus further.

"Fudge wanted to appoint Pavel as a Magistrate, subordinate or parallel to the Wizengemot, so that the Ministry could 'manage' the court to its best advantage. Instead, Ivailo used his connections - Merlin knows how - to secure an appointment to the Queen's High Court, with jurisdiction over matters magical. He answers only to the two higher courts - who are not authorized to deal with cases of magic, so that's a non-issue - or to Her Majesty. A case adjudicated at the Wizengemot may be appealed at the High Court, and heard by your father. But your father's cases can be appealed only to Her Majesty - which is not likely to happen as long as Minister Fudge is in office, it could jeopardize his position."

Minerva shook her head, a bit confused. "That all sounds like GOOD news, not bad. Why is Pavel so upset?"

"We talked about this for a bit, after everything was signed, sealed, delivered, and all on their way back home. Pavel retired from the bench years ago, on purpose. He's now a teacher, a trainer, an investigator, yes, when he must be. But he never wanted to have to go back to the part of him that has to judge people. It's hard enough being an Inquisitor and bringing people before the bar of justice. But to render verdict, pass sentence, that's a whole further level of responsibility that he chose to step away from. It's as emotionally costly as battle. Perhaps more so, since in either case it can be a matter of life and death, but in court it's a matter of decisions made in cold blood. You have no 'fog of war' or 'heat of battle' to temper the pain when you must take a life.

"To be honest, I think what upsets him is that he does not want to do this. But he feels he MUST do this, because Fudge wields so much power with so little wisdom, there are few in our Ministry who can hold him accountable. It's just that this takes your father to a place he does not want to go, and that he thought he'd left behind him long ago."

"So there you are, children. We now have the Justice of the High Court, the Honorable Pavel Konstantyn, to be addressed in court as 'My Lord', and in private as 'Sir Pavel'. I'm sure it will all work out fine. Pavel just takes these things so to heart. And he's dealt with some cases in the past that were very... trying."

At this point, footfalls could be heard approaching from the Study.

"So, did I miss anything important?" Pavel asked, with a cheerful grin. "I feel much better now. It's lovely out. Quite cool, but clear and stars are twinkling merrily." Pavel renewed his coffee, and sat back down after taking off his cloak. "So, does anyone have any questions? Have you finished the explanations, Albus?" He acknowledged Albus' nod with a salute of his coffee cup.

Harry asked, "So, how will this affect your schedule? Will you have to go to the Ministry every day, or week, or something?"

"No, I don't plan to. Poor Minister Fudge. He thought he'd cage lightning in a bottle. There's an old muggle saying, 'Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.' He wanted a judge on a leash. Well, he's got his judge, but I have neither leash nor muzzle. I will pursue justice when and as I feel it is necessary, particularly on matters regarding Voldemort. Fudge cannot force me to consider a case, nor can he prevent me from considering one. For the time being, I'm going to let things settle, pursue the lines of inquiry we are already working on, and see where things go from here. Everyone good with that?" he looked about to see nods from all.

"Good. Now... when do we start on trying to crack the mystery of Salazar Slytherin's Salon?" he leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin.

"How about tomorrow?" Harry piped immediately.

"You, young man, are BUSY tomorrow," Minerva laughed, with a warning note to her voice.

"Oh, maaaannn..." Harry whined.

"Indeed," Severus contributed. "If I've understood everything aright, you wouldn't be available for any new adventures until Saturday. Is that correct?"

"Ah, Severus. That WAS correct, and you quite understood rightly. But Harry will be indisposed only through Tuesday now. He opted out of the 3 day grounding by selecting an 'alternate modality' for correction. The defiance issue is now well and truly settled, and forgiven. He yet has his detention with you in the morning, his detention with Minerva in the afternoon, and then he's grounded and restricted until Wednesday morning. By the way, Harry, did I mention that includes an early bedtime? No? Ah, well, consider yourself informed. It's 8:30 unless you're doing homework, when it can extend til 9:00."

Pavel's uplifted brow endured Harry's scathing look for a moment before saying, "Don't look at me in that tone of voice!" totally shifting Harry's mood as he tried to work that out. "Perhaps we can see about an expedition to the wilds of darkest Chamber of Secrets next Saturday, all together?" Nods all around.

"Fine then! If there are no further questions, I declare free time for the next 45 minutes! Then it's off to bed for the children, and probably for me as well!"

Albus affixed everyone's attention with a rapidly upraised finger. "Oh, and I forgot to say, I have an announcement to make. Just before we met today in my office, the Hogwart's Punishment Log informed me that the three of you have just tied a school record," as he looked over his spectacles at Ron, Hermione, and Harry.

"Do we want to know, Headmaster?" Professor Snape drawled in his smarmiest voice.

"Well, YOU may find it a bit satisfying, Severus... considering. These three Gryffindors will, as of tomorrow, break the school record for most days of detention for the fewest days of school. They've actually managed to serve MORE days of detention, than we have been in session. That's a truly amazing accomplishment."

"I've got to ask, though I am certain I already know the answer..." Severus droned... "WHOSE record will they break?"

"Well... the Marauders, of course."

"Of course," said Minerva.

"I knew it," said Severus.

"Way to go, Little Brother and kinfolk!" said John.

"JOHN/IVAN!," said Minerva, Severus, Oxsana, and Pavel in unison.

"Right, then... Chess anyone?" asked John, wearing his most innocent expression.

* * *

 _ **A/N** Thank you so much for riding along with me this far, Gentle Reader. This has been great fun. The next installment is already in the works, but I'm going to try to get a few chapters ahead this time so I don't get all neurotic and obsessive when I feel like I'm falling behind in my rhythm. Comments, critique, ideas, suggestions... all welcome. I hope you enjoy this "family"! Grace to you! - Mort_

 ** _Note Two: _**_If you have enjoyed this story, and the Konstantyn Clan, the saga continues in Konstantyn Chronicles: Well Oriented Warrior. That story picks up right where this leaves off. Grace - Mort  
_


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